


Who Accepts and Who Adapts

by notbees



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (Comics), The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Animal Death, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Canon-Typical Violence, Chapters will get less and less canonical as we go, Domestic Fluff, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Getting to Know Each Other, I swear it’ll happen eventually, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, It is heavily implied though so watch out, M/M, Medical Inaccuracies, Original Character(s), Original Character-centric, Past Character Death, Past Rape/Non-con, Slow Burn, Slow Burn Romance, Tags Are Hard, Vomiting, a lot of OCs - Freeform, angsty dude, apparently stealing from ur crush will make them notice you, because my oc is an, because of obvious reasons, the tags are getting longer than the fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-12
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-01-19 13:12:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 22
Words: 101,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12410955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notbees/pseuds/notbees
Summary: After the fall of the prison the group is separated and just like that Kennedy Greene finds himself alone and unprepared in a unforgiving and heartless world. Believing his sisters to have died in the carnage Kennedy is loosing his grip on his will to survive, and then the Saviors showed up.They are cruel, dangerous, and definitely not the kind of company Kennedy would like to keep but he is desperate for sanctuary and human interaction so he decides to ignore the warning signs and make a place for himself at the Sanctuary. A place at Negan’s side.But as things begin to ramp up Kennedy discovers that Negan is a lot more dangerous than he originally thought.~This is terrible I’m so sorry~(Basically Maggie and Beth have a brother named Kennedy and after getting separated from the group he ends up becoming Negan’s first husband)Title is from Damien Murphy’s poem called Survival.





	1. The Butterfly Knife

**Author's Note:**

> First fic y’all! I’m super excited to post this, I’ve been working on it for about a year now and I sorta started to think I wouldn’t post it but here we are! Please read the tags before reading this for your own safety and if you need anything specific tagged just tell me and I’ll put it in whenever it comes up.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the fall of the prison Kennedy is alone. Four months later his drinking problem worsens.

 

Kennedy Greene woke aching and confused. The former was probably a fault of sleeping in the back seat of a broke down Volvo. The latter was a brief and blissful escape from Kenny's brutal reality that was most certainly due to his sleepy mind.

  
But both soon faded, the ache in his back and neck dulled and the confusion quickly switched to grief.

  
His father was dead, he knew that for sure. He'd seen it. Not his death but the aftermath of it. His decapitated and reanimated head, his lifeless body.

  
Kennedy hadn't been able to bring himself to end his fathers- no, the walkers life. But he was regretting that decision now. His father wouldn't have wanted to come back nonetheless stay like that. He hoped one of his sisters had found him and taken care of it, or that they had gotten out at all. He had been in the death row helping give medication to the sick there by request of his father when the explosions went off, Maggie had hastily ordered him to stay and help the “patients” evacuate then left, then the shooting started.

  
_I should've looked for Glenn_. Kennedy thought mournfully.

  
But now he was here alone and for all he knew everyone he knew and loved was dead.

  
He knew he should stay hopeful but... there had been so many walkers and a lot of gun shots.

  
Was it really likely that anyone had survived that? Well... he had but he hadn't really been that involved in the battle.

  
Kennedy picked up his pack, a purple backpack that he had hastily grabbed and stuffed with food and other supplies. He then choked back his grief and pushed himself out of the car.

 

FOUR MONTHS LATER

 

It was only noon and Kennedy had already downed three glasses of scotch.

  
_I shouldn't be doing this_. He thought as he poured himself a fourth.

  
Drinking Negan's overpriced alcohol had quickly become a part of his everyday schedule at the Sanctuary. A part that he was finding was quite difficult to stop.

  
There was a knock at the door, Negan's door.

  
"What?" He called out, his voice more annoyed than he was.

   
The door opened and a man walked in, Tom, Kennedy guessed.

  
"What?" He repeated.

  
"Um... Negan has a guest, I thought you should know."

  
_So I don't bother him_. Kennedy guessed. 

  
Kennedy downed his fourth glass. "Did I ask?" His words were slurred and clumsy. 

  
The man made a face that was somewhere in between annoyance and confusion. "Uh, no." He said slowly.

  
"Okay, then why are you here?"

  
Now he looked annoyed. "Sorry for bothering you." He said, and left.

  
Kennedy poured himself another glass.

  
_It was midday and nobody had seen Hershel, Beth was still in shock after seeing her mothers reanimated corpse killed once again and Kennedy was really starting to worry. His sister hadn't said a word to him in hours and Maggie thought their dad had gone to, of all places, a bar._

  
Kennedy shook the unwanted memory away and pushed off the stool he was sitting on. He stumbled a bit at first but quickly regained his balance and stilled the spinning of the room. Of all the things his brain needed to remind him of his father was not one of them and neither was his alcohol dependency.

  
He'd been drinking more lately but Kennedy blamed that on Negan and his recent attitude.

  
Negan was having issues with a group, that was all Kennedy knew. For the past two weeks he had been on edge, all though he didn't act like it what went on with his people did get to him, not in a ' _concerned for their wellbeing_ ' way, however. Negan didn't care about his people's wellbeing, as long as he had people and they were being complacent he was perfectly content. But somebody was messing with him and that was not good for Kennedy's sake, for anyone's sake.

  
Kennedy stumbled through the dimly lit halls of the Sanctuary; he hated how accustomed he'd grown to them. He'd been there too long.   
It took him a while but he eventually found the metal doors that led to one of the many exits to the Sanctuary. 

  
He pushed them open and stepped out onto the concrete platform.

  
To be clear Kennedy was in no way afraid of Negan. He was unpredictable yes, and most certainly dangerous but that didn't frighten Kennedy, at least not anymore. All fear had been wiped away after the first month of living there. Negan to most was a frightening creature but to Kennedy he was just a man who, like any other man, had the ability to kill him, nothing new there.

  
Their relationship was complicated if anything and certainly not romantic. Sexual yes, romantic no. They slept together, ate together, had sex with each other, offered mildly helpful advice, and offered each other glasses of whatever the other was drinking.

  
"Come for a smoke?" Sherry asked, taking a long drag from her own.

  
"I'm alright for now, thanks,"

  
"Already smashed?" She asked and shook her cigarette to dislodge a clump of ash.

  
"Yep," Kennedy said, popping the p.

  
Sherry had also become a part of his daily routine at the Sanctuary.

  
She was older than him, angrier than him, and femaler than him but she still managed to somewhat understand him.

  
"It's a nice day," she said in a way that meant she really thought it was a horrible day.

  
Kennedy just hummed in response and took in his surroundings.

  
The fences were busy as usual, surrounded by walkers and people trying to corral them. A couple of Negan's men walked the perimeter as well for good measure.

  
The sky was cloudy and the world smelt of rain.

  
This was the farthest Kennedy had been from the Sanctuary since he'd first got there.

  
Maybe Negan was afraid that if he let Kennedy go on a run that he'd leave and never come back, maybe Negan was right, it still annoyed him.

  
They were quiet for a long time until Sherry cut in cautiously,"Can you take care of Negan tonight?" 

  
Kennedy frowned.

  
They didn't talk about this. Negan was not an open subject between the two of them, when they first started these little get togethers it had been an unspoken agreement between the two that they wouldn't speak of their mutual husband. _Ever._

  
Yet here they were.

  
"There's a new girl and I think he wants to..." she trailed off. "Can you?"

  
Kennedy continued to frown but he wasn't sure whether it was because of what Sherry was asking of him or because she didn't already know that he would most certainly sleep with Negan to put him off the poor new girl's scent for a while.

  
"She'll have to get used to it eventually." He said instead.

  
Sherry nodded. "But not tonight?"

  
"Not tonight." Kennedy agreed.

  
Sherry let out a sigh of smoke. “Good.”

 

FOUR MONTHS BEFORE

 

Kennedy let his bag fall to the ground with a thump as he neared the small rivers edge.

  
He’d escaped the prison by doing the one thing he knew was most effective, however, he would’ve been lying if he’d said he fully thought through exactly what it meant to go outside the prison walls covered in walker blood.

  
No shelter. No showers.

  
It hadn’t taken long for the blood to dry and after two days it had become incredibly uncomfortable to keep on. He’d taken to peeling pieces of it off his arms to try and help but nothing was quite as good as a nice long wash.

  
Kennedy couldn’t even bring himself to care that the water could be contaminated.

  
He cupped his hands in the water and splashed it onto his face until the water that dropped away was clean and then stripped off his stiff clothes and replaced them with the spare set at the bottom of his backpack. They were Glenn’s so they were a bit big on him but they were better than his bloody ones.

  
He scrubbed his arms next which was a bit more work; the flakey blood had dried over his arm hair and he was having trouble getting all of it off without loosing what little body hair he had. Eventually, it all rinsed off and Kennedy even rinsed his hair a bit.

  
Kennedy sighed and blinked down at the water, his reflection blinked back at him; hair shaggy, eyes sunken, and exhausted.

  
He sighed again.

  
The water was too murky to be clean so Kennedy didn’t bother collecting it.

  
He was just gathering his things when he heard it; a snarl, close to a groan.

  
Kennedy hurriedly removed his revolver from the back of Glenn’s jeans even though he knew it probably wouldn’t do much good. He was a good shot with a rifle but he’d only used the small handgun Daryl had gifted him a few times on walkers and had missed them more often than he hit them.

  
The sound came again from his left.

  
Kennedy slowly made his way through the sparsely wooded forest careful to watch where he stepped. 

 

If he’d been in any other situation he would’ve felt at peace while bathed in the soft light that filtered through the tree leaves, but fear of something jumping out at him ruined all tranquility the wood had to offer.

 

It only took him a minute to find the walker, it sat propped up against a large oak tree, its skin grey and sunken, its clothes ripped and soggy. It had been dead for a while.

 

Kennedy must’ve made some noise as he neared because the walker turned its head to slowly look at him.

 

It was weak.

 

Kennedy let out a sigh of relief and shoved the revolver back under his shirt.

 

The walker snarled at him and reached out its bony arms.

 

Kennedy was about to leave it, it didn’t look strong enough to come after him, when an orange backpack caught his eye. It could have been nothing; an empty pack full of empty possibilities, but that fluttering feeling of hope had risen in Kennedy’s chest and he couldn’t help but be curious. It could have been nothing, but then it could’ve been food, or clean drinking water, or weapons.

 

With a dejected sigh, Kennedy pulled his switchblade from his belt and closed the distance between himself and the walker, opening the knife and burying it in its eye as it snarled at him.

 

It immediately went limp.

 

Carefully, Kennedy removed the blade from the walker's socket and pushed it to the side to get to the neon orange backpack.

 

Wiping the blood off the blade with the walker's tattered clothes, Kennedy closed the blade and returned it to his belt.

 

He felt hope fluttering in his chest once again as he realized that the bag was too heavy to be empty.

 

Hurriedly unzipping the bag, he blindly reached into it. A battered blue hoodie, two cans of chicken noodle soup and a can of peaches, and a tiny first aid kit that was almost empty.

 

He thought he had cleaned it out completely as he ran his hand over the smooth fabric at the bottom of the bag until a sharp pain in his hand made him pull back with a hiss.

 

Kennedy hurriedly turned his palm over just in time to find a thin gash of blood forming across his palm.

 

He looked into the bag again but saw nothing. It wasn’t until he resorted to turning the bag upside down and shaking out its contents that the small knife clattered to the forest floor. Not just a knife, a thin butterfly knife. It’s handle black and textured for grip, it’s blade shiny and reflective.

 

With his good hand, Kennedy carefully lifted the blade to study it. Whoever it belonged to had taken good care of it, there wasn’t a speck of blood or dirt on it (other than Kennedy’s).

 

After studying the blade for what felt like hours Kennedy carefully wiped the bloody blade on the walkers tattered clothes, latched it closed, and placed it in his back pocket.

 

 _Just in case._ He thought


	2. Vodka or Whiskey?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the fall of the prison Kennedy continues to struggle. Four months later Negan leaves on a mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya! Sorry this has taken awhile to get up, I have a bunch of excuses for it from school to our internet going out but to be honest 90% of them are bullshit. I have this whole fic planned out almost to where the show is now but I have yet to write a bunch of it. Some chapters will be up in a flash others may take a few weeks. Please be patient with me, I'm a baby at this. Anyway, thanks for reading! I hope you enjoy the second chapter.

Kennedy was three years old when his birth mother died. It didn't have the full affect on him at the time, he was old enough to notice her loss but not quite old enough to fully feel it. Maggie had been, however. It had been maybe six months later when the full force of it had came out. Six months later when their father remarried.

Annette had been a nice woman but that hadn't mattered to Maggie and because it hadn't mattered to Maggie it hadn't mattered to Kennedy.

For ten months Maggie and Kennedy treated their stepmother and stepbrother like shit (well, for Kennedy it was mostly ignoring them and refusing to eat the meals that Annette cooked, because he was four). Then Beth had been born and everything changed. Maggie stopped calling Annette a bitch, Kennedy finally agreed to play with Shawn, and everything shifted into place

Then the apocalypse happened.

Sleepily, Kennedy contemplated what he would've been doing if the dead hadn't started coming back.

 _Probably sitting through some boring psychology class._ He thought. _Or living with dad again and working as a farm hand_.

Negan shifted next to him and Kennedy pressed his eyes shut, pretending to be asleep. But Negan didn't get up or say anything so Kennedy assumed he was still asleep.

It was another part of his routine at the Sanctuary, waking up an hour before Negan and laying in bed either wallowing in self pity or allowing himself to think of his family. The two being very similar things. Then, when Negan would finally wake up he would close his eyes and pretend to be asleep so they wouldn't have to sit through any awkward goodbyes or good mornings.

He was eighty percent sure that Negan knew he was faking but he never said anything about it so Kennedy didn't stop.

The darkness twisted and turned itself, trying to trick Kennedy's eyes as he opened them again.

 _Maybe I would've graduated already_. Kennedy thought.

Although it had been the only thing to interest him in high school Kennedy couldn't imagine himself with a degree in criminal psychology. Maybe it was because he'd dealt with the kind of people he would've been working with and found it more frightening than fascinating.Or maybe it was because all of his drive for going to college had been grounded in an urge to escape from his family and he hadn't had that urge since he'd lost them.

Negan shifted next to him again, this time he was getting up.

Kennedy shut his eyes and listened as he roused.

_Maybe dad and I would've forgiven each other by now, maybe we'd be a somewhat functional family again._

With a grunt, Negan headed for the bathroom and Kennedy listened as the shower turned on.

_Or maybe I would be dead by now._

Kennedy was three when his mother died, he was three when his father remarried, he was four and a half when his younger sister was born, he was eight when he decided he liked boys, he was fourteen when he first tried to kill himself, and he was nineteen when the dead began to come back.

Kennedy wondered if his life had been better or worse before.

 

FOUR MONTHS BEFORE

 

Kennedy found himself wandering because there wasn't much else to do in a post apocalyptic world other than find what you need to survive, and he had found little more than a few cans, a butterfly knife, and an extra t-shirt.

He was on a cracked paved road, the sun was high above but it was mercifully cool. Walkers had been scarce which Kennedy was infinitely grateful for, he wasn't used to killing them up close and personal, when the farm fell he had shot a decent amount of them with an old rifle, and at the prison he'd taken fence duty once or twice, but it was different out in the open with nothing separating him and the walkers, nobody to watch his back.

Kennedy fiddled with the blade in his hand, it felt...uncomfortable, wrong, like he was holding it wrong or something.

It was a simple knife with a black handle and a ridged blade, the knife itself was decently heavy and gloriously sharp.  
He realized as he examined the blade that it was Daryl's. A newer model that he had rarely used but always kept on him until... until they'd gone on that supply run and Beth's boyfriend died.

  
_God, have I already forgotten his name?_

  
Daryl had given it to Kennedy after he mentioned having to borrow Maggie's.

  
Kennedy frowned down at the knife.

  
_What if he had needed it? What if it had been the only thing that could've saved him?_

  
Kennedy let out a too heavy breath filled with the grief he'd avoided dealing with for days.

  
He stopped and swallowed, looking up, searching for something to do, anything to do. But the world was barren and merciless and there was nothing that could distract Kennedy from his grief.

  
So for the first time in his four days of scavenging he let himself break down.

  
He knew it was stupid, he was crying over a goddamn knife in the middle of the road for anyone or anything to see. But he had been pushing away his grief for days and it had only been getting worse.

  
So Kennedy let himself choke on a few sobs and cry himself out until he felt nothing but numbness, exhaustion, and the black void where his despair should have been.

FOUR MONTHS LATER

Kennedy hated the lounge. It was the cramped but well decorated room that held a majority of Negan’s wives during the days. In the lounge just about everyone hated each other, at least one person was always crying, and most there were drunk or almost drunk.

  
Kennedy didn’t have much room to judge but he preferred being drunk to dealing with the drunk and whenever he found himself in the lounge he almost always ended up listening to one of the wives’ sob stories about how they got to the Sanctuary.

  
It was noon and Kennedy hadn’t had anything to drink and he was beginning to feel the start of a hangover, which he rarely got. It’s difficult to get a hangover when you’re almost always drunk.

  
Possibly the worst part of the lounge was that the only time Kennedy was ever sent there was when Negan was with one of his other spouses or planning to do something big regarding another group or community.

  
He wasn’t sure which option was worse.

  
Though, as far as he could tell all of Negan’s wives were accounted for. But then again it was hard to be sure.

  
Kennedy closed his eyes putting his fingers to his temples and trying to rub away the beginnings of a headache.

  
“Vodka or whiskey?” A familiar voice asked.

  
Kennedy smiled softly and opened his eyes. “You are an angel.”

  
“Yeah, Yeah,” Sherry started. “Vodka or whiskey?”

  
“Whiskey,” Kennedy replied.

  
Sherry didn’t respond, only turned around and made her way to the bar at the far side of the room.

  
She returned a moment later with a bottle of whiskey, half full.

  
“Angel,” Kennedy repeated.

  
Sherry halfheartedly flipped him off.

  
Twisting the cap off, Kennedy somewhat desperately put the bottle to his lips and downed a few large gulps, ignoring the burn of the judging eyes from around the room and the drink.

  
“Thanks.” Sherry said after he put the bottle down. “For last night, the new girl.”

  
Kennedy just took another long drink.

  
“Smoke?” Sherry asked when he finished again.

  
Kennedy looked to the bottle in his hands sadly.

  
“You can take it with you, dumbass.”

  
With a ridiculously fake smile Kennedy stood, ready to lead the way to their usual spot when a tall man stopped their progress.

  
“Kenny,” Tom said, his voice coated in annoyance. “Negan wants to see you.”

  
Kennedy frowned at the chest in front of him. “Why?” His voice came out more hoarse than usual.

  
“Come with me and you can ask him.”

  
“Since when do I need an escort?”

  
“Since now.”

  
Kennedy clicked his tongue and turned to Sherry. “Rain check.”

  
She just nodded.

  
Kennedy turned back to Tom. “Lead the way, babe.”

  
Tom, still looking annoyed, did as he was told.

  
_Did I do something to him?_ Kennedy wondered. _Probably._

  
The lounge wasn’t too far away from Negan’s room for convenience so it only took a minute of walking in awkward silence to reach the heavily guarded door.

  
Planning something for a group. Kennedy decided.

  
Negan was inside, talking animatedly to Dwight and Simon.

  
Simon looked almost as excited as Negan.

  
Dwight looked distant and angry as usual.

  
“Baby!” Negan called when he noticed Kennedy. “I wanted to let you know I’m gonna be out today, well, tonight, but I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  
Part of him knew he shouldn’t ask but his curiosity got the best of him. “What’s going on?”

  
Negan grinned and shrugged on his leather jacket. “The world is righting itself tonight, baby. The whole damn world.”

  
Kennedy didn’t bother trying to interpret that. “Pick up some more booze while your out, dear.” He said, too mocking to be of any use. “We’re running low.” He shook the now almost empty bottle of whiskey for emphasis.

  
“You drink too much.”

  
“Yes,” Kennedy replied simply.

  
“Sleep in your own room tonight.” And with that he left, Dwight, Simon, and Tom following closely behind.

  
“My liege,” Kennedy said mockingly though there was no one to hear.

  
He assumed the only reason Negan put up with Kennedy’s insolence was because it amused him. Kennedy could tell it annoyed the other Saviors, he could get away with teasing their leader but if anyone else even tried they’d likely get at barbed bat to the head.

  
With a dejected sigh, Kennedy downed the rest of the whiskey and made his way to Negan’s bar. Carefully, he set the empty bottle atop the counter and gathered a glass and a bottle of vodka.

  
Routine was key to living at the Sanctuary and Kennedy would be lying if he said his didn’t almost entirely rely on alcohol.

FOUR MONTHS BEFORE

Kennedy cut himself. Not on purpose however he didn’t mind the pain.

  
It happened when he was walking down the cracked road, it had been a few days since his break down but his eyes still felt swollen and heavy so it wasn’t until it was right in front of him that he noticed the walker.

  
He had hurriedly reaches for the weight in his back pocket on instinct only to realize as he pulled it out of his pocket that it was not Daryl’s old switchblade but the butterfly knife he’d found by the river. But it had been too late to put it away, he’d quickly opened the blade cutting himself open in the process and stabbed the walker through the eye.

  
He’d stepped back as the walker collapsed and cursed at the line of blood that welled up on the back of his hand. A mirror image of the front.  
Kennedy considered leaving it right then and there as a sort of retribution against the blade but then thought better.

  
_You might need it, dumbass_.

  
So he carefully pulled the knife from the walker eye socket and wiped it off against his pant leg.

  
_Better it cut me then someone else._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in case you didn't catch it Negan leaving near the end was to go break our hearts with what he did to Glenn, hope that gives you a good idea at where the story is at this point.  
> Anyway, I don't know exactly how long its been between the prison and this but I'm just guessing four months, could be more, could be less idk man it's impossible to know exactly how much time passes between these things so I'm kinda wingin it. Also don't look into my math on the whole timing thing with Kenny's mom to Beth's birth thing, it's gonna be wrong. Also Negan doesn't actually have a bar in his room as far as I know I just added it in there because I'm lazy.  
> Oh yeah and I basically wrote all of this while on NyQuil at two in the morning so.. yea.


	3. Trouble in Paradise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kennedy’s struggles while on the road worsen. Four months later conflict arises between Kennedy and various Saviors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo! This took awhile but it was a long one so it’s somewhat justified.  
> I am reluctantly updating this from my phone because my computer is taking ages to update so it may come out a bit wonky.  
> !IMPORTANT! TW for attempted rape near the end. Again, if you need any specific trigger warnings please tell me and I will put them in if they ever come up.  
> Also, I’m not sure if I’ve said this yet but there will be no sex scenes between Negan and Kennedy in this fic because I am not comfortable writing them because it feels too close to writing a rape scene. If you are here for that you aren’t gonna get it.  
> Happy holidays!!! I hope you enjoy!

Kennedy found Sherry outside smoking a cigarette as expected.

  
It was either really early or really late depending on who you asked and the sun had yet to make an appearance, however the midnight black sky was slowly shifting to a dark purple.

  
“Didn’t think you’d be out here,” Kennedy slurred, leaning against the guard rail.

  
“They practically took a whole damn army,” Sherry said. She was trying to sound nonchalant, maybe slightly annoyed at an inconvenience but the worry in her voice was palpable.

  
For a moment Kennedy considered not responding, after all he wasn’t very good at comforting and that seemed like it was the direction the conversation was headed, but it was also the perfect opportunity to get the answer to the question that had been bothering him for weeks.

  
“Who are they?” He asked after a moment of contemplation. “Who are they that they needed to take everyone?”

  
It was true, at least half of the Saviors population had left with Negan and the Sanctuary seemed big and empty without them around.

  
Sherry paused as if she too were considering staying silent but then she took a long drag of her cigarette. “Just some assholes who shot up one of the outposts.”

  
“Seems like a lot of men for ‘ _just some assholes_ ’.” Kennedy replied, plucking the smoke from her fingers and taking a hit for himself.

  
Sherry just shook her head at him and fished her pack from her coat pocket, she flipped it open but it was empty. “ _Shit_ , I need a new pack.”

  
Kennedy blinked.

  
Sherry had gotten a pack just the week before, she was an avid smoker but she didn’t smoke that much. Even with Kennedy’s help she wouldn’t have gone through a twenty pack in a week.

  
“If he figures out you’re seeing him again...” Kennedy let himself trail off.

  
Sherry gave him a sharp look. “He isn’t going to figure anything out.”

  
Maybe it was because he was tired, or still a bit drunk, or admittedly a little worried for her that led him to say, “I’m just saying, the poor guy is already missing one half of his face imagine what he’ll look like after Negan’s done with both sides.”

  
Sherry’s face was a mask of blankness, if it wasn’t for her furious eyes he would’ve thought she didn’t care.

  
“Give me your arm,” She said after a long silence.

  
Kennedy clenched his jaw but obediently held his arm out to her.

  
Slowly, Sherry rolled up the sleeves to his button down shirt, revealing a long pale scar that took up most of his forearm. She then carefully took the half gone cigarette from his loose grasp and stubbed it out on his wrist, right above where his scar began.

  
Maybe it was because he was exhausted, maybe it was because he was still a little bit drunk, or maybe it was because he was admittedly a little worried for her that Kennedy let her.

  
Pain, sudden and violent shot up his arm, consuming him. His vision blurred and his body flinched on instinct but he didn’t cry out, didn’t pull away.

  
After what felt like an eternity Sherry pulled the cigarette away from Kennedy’s now burnt skin and flicked it away.

  
“Come see me when you aren’t drunk and pissy,” Sherry said, then left.

  
_I deserved that._

  
Lifting his arm so it was eye level Kennedy carefully examined his wound.

  
It was remarkable how such a small thing could be so _painful_.

  
Kennedy tried to blow away some of the ash that had gotten stuck in the wound but only managed to make it hurt more.

  
After a bit of contemplation he eventually ended pressing his tongue to the wound, ignoring the taste of ash and charred skin.

  
The pain eventually faded to a dull throb but by then the sun had fully risen and a cluster of cars were headed for the gate.

  
Kennedy waited until a few Saviors hurried to open the gate to return inside.

 

FOUR MONTHS BEFORE

 

Limiting himself to two meals a day wasn’t helping.

  
A week alone passed like a month and Kennedy’s luck, if there’d ever been any, had run out. Food was scarce and Kennedy had to struggle to adapt to eating only two cans of pears or chicken noodle soup a day.

  
Everyday was a fight to find the basics needed for survival. Food, shelter, safety. Difficult to find individually, impossible to find together. Often times Kennedy had to choose between a meal or shelter, sleep or safety. It was killing him.

  
He’d eventually settled on a schedule of sleeping every other night and scavenging for food in between. Every time he lay down to sleep exhaustion tugged him into dreamless oblivion only to leave him even more tired the next morning.

  
Kennedy only realized how sick it was making him when he’d found a bag of stale pretzels hidden away in a rundown convenience store and decided to treat himself to a snack in between meals only to vomit them back up again due to his stomachs adjustment to his diet.

  
He’d known what he was doing was unhealthy but there wasn’t really any way to avoid it without running out of food in two days or sleeping in the middle of the road where the walkers could reach him easily.

  
Kennedy became more and more desensitized to his suffering each day, the pain in his stomach and back had become a constant, and his heavy eyelids and weak muscles were typical.

  
The worst had yet to come, however.

  
It was mid day when he passed out.

  
One minute he was making his way to a run down gas station and then the sun above flashed white and he was falling to the ground. He didn’t wake up until a walker tried to take a bite out of his arm and even then he was too weak to fight it so he dizzily got to his feet and clumsily stumbled away. Anyone looking in probably would’ve thought he was a walker as well.

  
Clinging to consciousness desperately, he stumbled to the store next to the gas station, shoving the squeaky door open and pushing a stack of baskets over in front of it as a makeshift barricade.

  
The world was spinning once he reached the checkout counter, pulling the butterfly knife out of his pocket. He collapsed against the counter, breathing heavily.  
The light outside seemed to brighten and then dim.

  
_You’ve just gotta eat something,_ he thought. _Then you’ll be fine_.

  
His hands shook as he pulled his backpack from his shoulder and unzipped it.

  
Bloody clothes, first aid kit, Glenn’s hat, canned ravioli.

  
Shakily, he opened the can with the butterfly knife, surprisingly avoiding cutting himself for once.  
He didn’t bother trying to heat the ravioli up before eating some.  
His stomach rolled in protest but Kennedy somehow managed to keep the cold ravioli down.

  
The world around him seemed to focus ever so slightly.

  
The walker snarled in protest as it hit the glass doors and they held shut.

  
Kennedy’s hands continued to shake as he slowly finished the can off and put away the butterfly knife.

  
_Too close,_ he thought. _Way too close._

 

FOUR MONTHS LATER

 

Buttoning up his shirt, Kennedy observed his reflection. Eyes tired as always, skin pale from lack of sunlight, and torso thin.

  
He looked better than he had when he first arrived at the Sanctuary but still not as good as he had at the prison.

  
The Greene siblings had always looked different from each other due to their mixed parentage but Kennedy specifically had been the odd one out. He had pale skin same as Beth but that was where the similarities ended unless you looked very closely. Kennedy’s hair was the darkest of the Greene siblings, almost black, and wavy, normally it was curly but it had been awhile since he’d cut it so the curls were weighed down. His eyes were hazel where his sisters were green and blue. And he was also the shortest of his family at 5’4.

  
If you did look closely between the siblings, however, you’d notice their similar jaw line, their almost identically shaped mouths, and their raised cheekbones.

  
“You gettin all gussied up for me?” Negan asked from the doorway.

  
When he’d first arrived at the Sanctuary Kennedy had been given four things straight away; a warm meal, a change of clothes, medical attention, and his own room.

  
Technically he didn’t need his own room given that he was spending most of his nights in Negan’s room but he made sure to keep it for the days when Negan was busy with his other wives.

  
“No... Simon, what can I say, the mustache has grown on me.”

  
“Don’t joke about that.” For half a second Negan actually looked mad before his anger melted away into amusement. “Nobody likes that damn thing.”

  
Briefly Kennedy considered continuing to joke about Simon but Negan’s brief anger was enough to make him decide otherwise.

  
“How’d it go?” He asked instead.

  
At that Negan turned giddy. “I had a goddamn _beautiful_ night, baby. You wouldn’t believe!”

  
Kennedy rolled his eyes and tucked his long hair behind his ears. “I’m glad you had fun at work, honey,” his tone was mockingly sweet.

  
Negan came up behind him and wrapped his arms around Kennedy’s middle. “Soon we’ll have enough shit to last us the rest of our lives.”

  
“They gave up?” Kennedy asked, surprised.

  
“It took a bit of force, a bit of dick measuring, you would’ve loved it, but they eventually gave in.”

  
Kennedy simply hummed in response.

  
“Tonight,” Negan whispered, hands roaming over Kennedy’s arms. “You and me, a bottle of shitty scotch, my room.”

  
“Sounds like a date,” Kennedy replied teasingly, biting back his disappointment.

  
Negan smiled and squeezed Kennedy’s wrists.

  
Kennedy hissed in pain.

  
Negan’s smile disappeared and he lifted Kennedy’s wrists for inspection.

  
“I’m an _idiot_ ,” Kennedy said breathily. “It’s nothing really, I just burnt myself while drunk last night, don’t worry about it.”

  
Negan pulled back his sleeves revealing the still tender burn. “This is a cigarette burn.”

  
“Yeah, it was stupid, I was out for a smoke and I didn’t realize why my wrist was hurting until too late. I’m dumb when I’m drunk.”

  
“You can’t lie to me, Kenny,” Negan said, meeting Kennedy’s eyes. “I’ve seen your scars, if your slipping into old habits then-“

  
“It was an accident, Negan, I swear.”

  
For a second it looked as though Negan was actually concerned for his wellbeing but then he broke into a grin and pulled away from Kennedy.

  
“Of course it was.” He said. “I’ll see you tonight.” And with that he left.

 

FOUR MONTHS BEFORE

 

From that day on Kennedy made sure he ate three meals a day, even if they were just cans of whatever he could find.

  
It was hard, he found himself missing more and more sleep and by the time he’d been alone for two whole weeks he was running on fumes. Exhaustion pulled him down every minute of every day, slowing his search for food, almost completely halting his search for shelter.

  
When he did sleep it was only for a few hours on a bench on the side of the road or a storage room at the back of a convenience store, if he was lucky.

  
So when he stumbled upon a train car filled with blankets and functioning closing doors, Kennedy thought he was in heaven.

  
Climbing into the car, closing the door behind him, he couldn’t even bring himself to worry about who had set the makeshift bed up before he was drifting into an exhausted slumber.

  
Kennedy slept for five hours and would’ve slept for another five if he hadn’t been awakened by the train rumbling to life beneath him.

 

FOUR MONTHS LATER

 

Other than Sherry, Kennedy didn’t care about Negan’s wives. Well, maybe that wasn’t fair. He felt bad for them, vaguely, but it was hard to drudge up any real respect for them when half of them tended to be catty and self centered.

  
Most of them had chosen the roll of Negan’s spouse for similar reasons, to help their families, to save their significant others, to better their own lives. But none of that seemed to matter to most of them, at least half of the girls thought of the others as competition, thieves intent on taking that medicine that their mother needs or that food that their daughters been begging for.

This was another reason why Kennedy hated the lounge.

  
So when he went to the lounge for more booze and was met with a new girl who seemingly had the attitude of a grumpy teenager he wasn’t surprised.

  
Her name was Norah and she somehow looked both fierce and a second away from a breakdown.

  
As soon as Kennedy saw her he was intent on ignoring her. Which was hard as her eyes followed him around the room.

  
She was probably surprised to see a guy in the lounge that wasn’t one of Negan’s guards or inner circle which Kennedy clearly wasn’t due to his lack of visible weapons and nice clothes.

  
Her curiosity was palpable.

  
Kennedy speed walked to the bar and grabbed a bottle of vodka from behind it, spinning to rush back out of the room.

  
It was Sherry that made him stop in his tracks. She leveled a stare at him from one of the black leather couches.

  
_I’m sorry,_ She mouthed.

  
Kennedy unscrewed the cap to the bottle and took a swig of the watered down alcohol with a shrug.

  
_Don’t worry about it_.

  
And with that he continued to the doorway. He made it a whole three steps before a voice stopped him.

  
“Kenny! Hey, wait!”

  
Kennedy stopped reluctantly.  
One of the girls (Megan? Marissa?) waved him over from where she sat next to the new girl.

  
Trying to look as drunk and unsociable as possible Kennedy obediently approached them.

  
The act worked on the girl who waved him over but not the new girl.

  
“Have you met Norah?” Miriam (???) asked with a frown. “She’s new.”

  
“I bet she is,” Kennedy replied with a condescending smile.

  
Norah didn’t look impressed.

  
She was young, no older then eighteen, and she had long brunette hair and a pretty face.

Perfect for Negan.

  
“This is Kennedy,” Martha (??) said to Norah. “He’s Negan’s favorite.”

  
At that Norah looked interested. “Is that so? You’re married to him?”

  
Kennedy simply hummed and took another swig from the vodka, savoring the burn.

  
“That’s interesting, I didn’t know he liked men.”

  
“Look around, sweetheart,” Kennedy said gesturing around the room. “Does it look like he has a type?”

  
“Yes,” Norah replied. “Female.”

  
At that Kennedy couldn’t help but smile.

  
“He hasn’t called her in yet,” Margret (?) whispered. “Do you know why?”

  
He did. Sherry had asked him just a few days before to try and keep Negan off her scent and Kennedy had been willing to oblige.

  
“He’s been busy,” he said instead. “But he should be free soon.”

  
“I’m not looking forward to it,” Norah replied, visibly disgusted.

  
“Then I’d lie low if I were you.”

  
Margery (????) looked pitying as she gently patted Norah’s arm. “It’s hard on us all but once he’s had you once he won’t try again for a few months, unless he likes you like he does Kennedy.”

  
Norah looked confused.

  
“I told you Kenny was his favorite, they actually share a room. When he first got here-“

  
Kennedy spun on his heel and made for the door, he didn’t need to hear their gossip about him and Negan.

  
Sherry stopped him at the door. “Smoke?”

  
Kennedy just nodded and headed for their exit only to be stopped by Sherry.

  
“No, the stairwell.”

  
Kennedy drew his brows together in confusion but obediently followed Sherry to the stairs.

  
Once they reached it they climbed down half a flight, Sherry making sure Kennedy didn’t fall down them along the way, and stopped to light their cigarettes.

  
Sherry had gotten another pack.  
“I’m really sorry, Ken,” She said, taking a puff.

  
“I deserved it.”

  
“ _Bullshit_ , I was being a bitch.” She spun around to look at him. “I’m sorry.”

  
Kennedy shrugged. “Don’t worry about it.”

  
Sherry looked skeptical but didn’t push any more. “So you met the new girl.”

  
Kennedy took a drag. “Isn’t she a delight.”

  
“She’s only eighteen and she chose to marry him to keep her boyfriend off the wall.”

  
Kennedy scoffed.

  
“What?”

  
“They all have ‘boyfriends’ now.”

  
“They could go back,” Sherry pointed out.

  
“They won’t.”

  
“Or they could leave,” She said it nonchalantly but Kennedy heard the edge in her voice.

  
“And go where?” Kennedy retorted.

  
Sherry frowned.

  
“There’s nothing out there.”

  
“Nothing is better than this.”

  
Kennedy couldn’t help the cruel laugh that bubbled out of him.

“Try living out there, see what happens.”

  
Sherry took another drag and then turned to face Kennedy. “We could go,” She whispered. “Just you and me, we can go and-“

  
“Are you insane?” Kennedy whisper shouted back. “What do you think they’ll think if we leave together, huh? What do you think they’ll do when we get back?”

  
“We won’t come back!”

  
“They’ll find us.”

  
“Not if we’re careful!”

  
Kennedy shook his head and drank from the bottle. “You wanna run away? Gallop into the sunset with your knight in shining armor? Take your fucking husband I’m sure he’d be happy to oblige you.”

  
Sherry clenched her jaw and took another hit.

  
Kennedy couldn’t help but laugh a bit hysterically. “Holy shit, you’ve already asked him.”

  
Sherry just shook her head.

  
“Christ, Sherry-“

  
“It’s not- I’m not saying because...” she sighed. “I wanted to take you anyway. I’m not just leaving you here-“

  
“I’m not your responsibility.” Kennedy bit out.

  
Sherry barked out a laugh. “If I don’t take care of you who will?”

  
Kennedy didn’t have a good reply to that. He wasn’t going to watch over himself and Sherry knew that. So he settled on just shaking his head disapprovingly.

  
“You can’t have honestly tricked yourself into thinking that this place is better than out there.” She was visibly straining to keep her annoyance in check.

  
Kennedy’s look was scalding. “Didn’t your sister die out there?”

  
Sherry clenched her jaw. “I get why you’d be scared-“

  
Kennedy chuckled.

  
“You almost died and-“

  
“And I didn’t, because of them and they haven’t forgotten that. I owe them and so do you.”

  
“We don’t owe them _shit_ , Kenny. That’s just them getting in your head, making you think you owe them some kind of debt, exploiting the people you love, that’s how they control you.”

  
Suddenly exhausted by the whole conversation Kennedy sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Sherry, if I honestly thought there was anything good out there I’d go with you.”

  
For a minute they stood in silence, the only noises coming from their occasional exhale of smoke.

  
“Alright,” Sherry said finally.

  
“‘Alright’?”

  
“Alright. Here,” She offered him her new pack of cigarettes.

  
Kennedy’s brows drew together in confusion.

  
“I have some more.”

  
Cautiously, he took the pack from her and put it in his back pocket.

“Promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”

  
Sherry grinned. “Only if you promise, too.” And with that She stubbed out her smoke and disappeared up the stairs.

 

 

Two hours later Kennedy was almost smashed enough to forget the conversation but it still tugged at the back of his thoughts. He was worried for Sherry and it set his teeth on edge due to the fact that their relationship was based off of what he’d thought was mutual indifference.

  
_When did I start to care?_

  
Kennedy slowly massaged his aching temple and nursed his drink.

  
He had been new when Dwight and Sherry bolted. It hadn’t really been that big of a deal, Dwight owed but not much, and Sherry had stolen some medication for her sister but it wasn’t a long term supply, but Negan had treated the betrayal as a personal offense and put a ridiculous amount of resources into finding them and bringing them back. Sherry had married Negan less than a week after Kennedy had, she’d called him stupid for accepting Negan’s offer and Kennedy called her a hypocrite in return, and just like that a reluctant friendship was born.

He liked to think she was an interchangeable piece in his life but the more he thought about it the more he resented the thought of her absence.

  
Dejectedly, Kennedy rested his head on the edge of Negan’s bar and groaned.

  
“Hungover at three o’clock?” A gruff voice asked from the doorway.

  
Kennedy straightened reluctantly to see who was addressing him.

  
His vision blurred and then cleared and suddenly Tom was standing in front of him.

  
Kennedy faked a smile. “You have to stop drinking to get hungover.”

  
“I never understood why he liked you,” Tom muttered disdainfully. “You’re a goddamn mess.”

  
At that Kennedy’s smile turned a bit more genuine. “I thought _that_ was why he liked me.”

  
Tom grunted and claimed the bar stool next to him. “Nah, It’s that face that damn pretty face.”

  
“Did I do something to you? To piss you off or something? Because you’ve been pissy for about a week now and I’m not entirely sure why.”

  
Tom rolled his eyes. “I’ve always hated you and you know it.”

  
“I don’t actually,” Kennedy muttered with false cheer. “Enlighten me, please.”

  
“You are so arrogant,” Tom spat. “You think the whole world revolves around you, and they let you get away with it too. ‘Oh, Kennedy needs more booze go fetch him some’, ‘Oh, Kennedy’s out of fancy shirts go find him some’, like you’re special or something. You ain’t, ain’t ever have been ain’t ever will be.”

  
“So your jealous.”

  
Tom sent him a scathing look. “You think just because you let him fuck you that you’re entitled to luxury? You’re not.”

  
Kennedy just shrugged. “Maybe you should try it sometime... fucking Negan, I mean, see if it gets you any farther in you ‘ _career_ ’ here. What is it you do again? His easy killings?”

  
“Fuck you, you-“

  
“If you aren’t going to be civil then you should probably just leave, you’re ruining a perfectly good drink with your voice and... you know, your _face_.”Kennedy turned his attention back to his glass, swirling the liquid with a roll of the wrist.

  
“It ain’t like your important to him. Nothing but a pretty ass for him to screw when he feels like it. A pretty, _pretty_ ass.”

  
Distantly Kennedy became aware of a hand on his thigh.

  
_Shit_.

  
“You probably won’t even remember.” Tom let his hand roam slowly up towards Kennedy’s crotch.

  
“No,” Kennedy said firmly.

  
“Like what you think matters-“

  
With a annoyed sigh Kennedy expertly pulled his butterfly knife from his pocket and opened it with a flick of the wrist in one quick motion, pressing it firmly to Tom’s throat.

  
“Take your hand off my leg or I’ll cut it off.”

  
Tom froze, clearly surprised by the sudden appearance of the blade.

  
“Off. _Now_.”

  
Slowly, Tom retracted his hand. “Like you don’t want-“

  
“Now what is going on here?” Negan’s voice cut through the tension and then added two layers of his own making.

  
Kennedy sighed and gave Tom a pitying look.

  
“Nothing-“ Tom started.

  
“What the _fuck_ made you think I was talking to you?”

  
The entire room became deathly quiet and even though a part of him wanted desperately to throw Tom under the bus and watch as he got crushed Kennedy couldn’t do it.

  
“Nothing,” Kennedy replied calmly, carefully returning his butterfly knife to its rightful place. “Just a misunderstanding.”

  
Maybe it was a misplaced sense of pity that drove him to lie, maybe he liked that it made him look forgiving, maybe he just didn’t want to watch as Negan beat Tom to death with a baseball bat.

  
Negan was not convinced. “Is that so?” His voice was rough.

  
Kennedy pushed himself off his stool, taking the glass of vodka with him. “Mmhm.”

  
Negan halted his escape with a touch to the arm. “Now, baby,” he stage whispered. “You wouldn’t have any reason to lie about this to me would you?”

  
Kennedy met his eyes and tried his best to look innocent. “Of course not.”

  
Negan remained silent and ominous for a whole three seconds before breaking into a grin. “‘Of course not’! Because my man Tom is no way stupid enough to think that he could not only get away with doin my husband but _raping_ my husband, isn’t that right Tommy?”

  
And in that moment Kennedy knew that Negan knew he was lying, that he’d somehow seen through his lie, or watched the entire exchange. But he was playing along. For what reason? Who knew.

  
“Of course not,” Tom replied.

  
“‘Of course not’,” Negan repeated, dropping his arm so Kennedy could get by.

  
Kennedy downed his glass and hurriedly made for the door.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes!  
> The next one will probably be the start of the real plot of this fic these first couple of chapters have been more of an introduction to my characters and my storyline but these next few will start mingling with the shows elements and plot some more.  
> Also, I know Kenny is a character in the TWD video game and the nickname is a reference to that character, the train is also a reference to the video game, and the butterfly knife is a reference to Fear.  
> Btw I know Sherry is a bit ooc it wasn’t my intention but it just kinda turned out that way and I couldn’t figure out how to fix it. Sorry if she’s your fave.


	4. The Train

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kennedy meets some unfriendlys. Four months later he is forced to face the gravity of his situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooooh boy.  
> This is a mess as always.  
> I feel like this has taken forever to upload but its only been a few weeks.  
> I'm not really sure what to say about this chapter... things happen, people talk, shots are fired (literally).  
> TW for lots of violence, a bit of gore, and blood.  
> Enjoy!

Kennedy bolted upright as he felt the train rumble to life beneath him.

  
A whistle screamed from above.

  
Panic took over as the train car lurched forward.

  
"Shit," he whispered, standing unsteadily.

  
The train car shook under him as it steadily began to speed up.

  
He could jump, the door he'd climbed in through was still cracked open but the car was already going too fast to guarantee a safe landing. But he also wasn't too keen on meeting whoever was driving the train either.

  
Kennedy lurched forward, pushing the heavy door open as quickly as possible.

  
The rolling door screeched as its wheels struggled to recall their function after months or years of disuse.

  
"You hear that?" A rough voice asked.

  
They were at the door that connected the cars.

  
Kennedy sprinted to the makeshift bed to grab his backpack, throwing it over his shoulders and made a break for the car door preparing himself for any injuries that might befall him when he heard the bang of the door opening.

  
Kennedy bolted but a firm grip on the strap of his backpack pulled him back.

  
On instinct Kennedy threw up his elbow, feeling the crunch of bone under his arm as it hit his assailants nose.

  
“ _Motherfucker!_ ” His attacker pulled back violently, hurrying to cover his bleeding nose.

  
“Don’t fucking move!” At the distinct sound of a guns safety being switched off he stopped.

  
Kennedy froze, only three steps away from the door.

  
"I knew it! We've got a stowaway, D." The one bleeding from his nose said.

  
"Fuck, don't move asshole."

  
"I was leaving," Kennedy said shakily, his voice rough from weeks of disuse, slowly raising his hands to his head. "I don't want any trouble, I was just planning to stay the night I didn't think this thing belonged to anyone."

  
"I didn't, now it does."

  
Kennedy's backpack was pulled roughly from his shoulders and he contemplated whether or not the two men would still shoot him if he jumped.

  
"C'mere," one of them said gruffly, pulling him away from the door and pushing him up against a wall.

  
“Take his shit.” His gun was pulled roughly from its holster along with his switchblade from his belt.

  
They couldn't have been older than Kennedy, he realized to his surprise.

  
The one who had him pinned to the wall (the one he’d elbowed in the face) was lanky with blond hair and nothing but a knife and Kennedy's backpack in his hands. The one with the gun had dark hair and was about Kennedy's height, he was smiling.

  
"Man, I've missed this." The one with the gun said, still not moving from his spot by the door.

  
"Better have some good shit." The one with the knife said, pushing back from the wall.

  
"Go get Bobby."

  
"You sure?"

  
"Dude." He shook his gun a bit as if to say _'I think I have the advantage here, don't you?'_.

  
"Right," he replied before slipping past the one with the gun.

  
"You don't need to do this," Kennedy started when the door banged shut behind the blond one.

  
"Shut the fuck up," the one with the gun replied.

  
Kennedy wisely kept his mouth shut.

  
They only had to sit in awkward silence for a minute before the car door swung back open revealing the blond one again and another boy, young like the others but taller, more authoritative. The leader.

  
"Well, well, well, for a second I thought you were fucking with me, Tod." The new guy said pulling a revolver from his belt.

  
"I told you, man." The blond one- Tod- said. "A fucking stowaway."

  
The leader-Bobby- smiled and moved to stand in front of Kennedy.

  
"Listen," Kennedy started. "I didn't want any trouble..."

  
"Oh I know you didn't." Bobby looked him over. "You were probably just hanging out, minding your own business 'n all of that. I don't want there to be any trouble here."

  
Kennedy wanted to believe that was true however Bobby was still holding his revolver and the other one with the gun hadn't lowered his pistol.

  
"You see, we don't want trouble but we can't be sure you don't,” Bobby stated. "This is a real nice set up here, a moving home, big, dry, doesn't need to be steered, doesn't need gas that we can't provide every twenty miles. You can probably see why we'd want it and I can _definitely_ see why you'd want it."

  
“I don’t,” Kennedy said. “Trust me, _I don’t._ I just needed a place to sleep.”

  
“Oh, I wish I could believe that... we could kill you,” Bobby said thoughtfully. “That’d probably be the smartest decision.”

  
Kennedy swallowed.

  
“Or we could let you go, bad idea. We could push you out,” Bobby said gesturing to the gaping car door. “But you’d survive that, wouldn’t you? It’d probably just piss you off and you’d continue to be just another problem for me and my friends here.”

  
“Kill him, Bobby.” Tod said, his nose still streaming blood.

  
“Now, now,” Bobby reprimanded, tilting his head ever so slightly. “Where’s the fun in that?”

  
And then without any provocation Bobby lowered his gun just slightly and pulled the trigger.

  
At first Kennedy felt nothing but the impact, so strong that it vibrated through his body making him fall forward onto his knees and elbows. Then confusion took over, it took at least ten seconds for him to realize that he’d actually been shot. Then, as though the realization had reminded him he was supposed to be hurt, the pain was so intense and sudden that Kennedy couldn’t even manage to think, to breathe. Distantly, he heard laughing.

  
Slowly, oh so slowly, Kennedy came back to himself. Firstly he remembered he was on the floor, secondly he realized his right leg was bleeding, a lot, and thirdly he realized that he was going to die.

  
Pain engulfed him as he shakily pressed a hand to his thigh in a delirious attempt to stop the bleeding.

  
His ears rang loudly but he could distantly hear someone yelling.

  
Kennedy gasped unsteadily as his entire leg suddenly went numb. His entire body was shaking.

  
“Hey,” Bobby’s sympathetic voice cut through the ringing in his ears, he was leaning over him. “I’m sorry, I really am.”

  
Kennedy highly doubted that was true.

  
“Today just wasn’t your day.” Then to Tod: “push him out.”

  
Panic curled in Kennedy’s gut.

  
“Oh come on,” Tod spat. “That’s it? Let me teach him a lesson, Bobby.”

  
A small puddle of blood was forming underneath Kennedy. Once again he tried to slow the bleeding with his shaky palm but he was afraid to touch the wound, afraid to look at it.

  
The entire front of Kennedy’s worn jeans was stained with his blood.

  
_Not good, not good, not good._

  
“I fucking _shot_ him, Toddy. You think you can do worse than that?”

  
“We could kill him.”

  
Bobby gave Tod a withering look.

  
“Fine, I won’t kill him. I’ll just make us match and then Derek and I will throw him out,” Tod said gesturing to the dark haired one with the gun.

  
Bobby seemed to consider this then just waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “Fine, but I don’t want to hear any more gunshots. Got it?”

  
Tod smiled.

  
Bobby disappeared out the door he’d come in from.

  
Kennedy felt like he was going to puke, or faint, or both.

  
“Hey there, asshole.” Tod said once the door slammed shut behind Bobby. “How’re you feeling?”

  
The only response he received was a jagged gasp.

  
Tod kneeled down next to Kennedy, eyeing his shaky palm that hovered just above the gapping bullet wound.

  
“You look a bit pale, don’t worry, this’ll be over real quick.” And with that he straightened and then drove his foot into Kennedy’s ribs.

  
Kennedy heaved as the breath was knocked out of him and wasn’t given the chance to catch it again.

  
Tod kicked him twice more, this time in the stomach, the first making him gag, the second knocking him onto his back.

  
Once Kennedy had his back on the splintered wooden floor of the train car Tod quickly straddled him, not giving him any time to catch his breath before he began raining blows down on Kennedy’s face.

  
The world flashed white as Tod laid blows across his jaw, his cheek, his eye.

  
Everything already hurt so it was hard to assess the damage that Tod was causing.

  
Kennedy’s entire face felt hot and painful, his torso ached every time he breathed, his legs felt numb and sticky with blood.

  
By the time he began to taste blood in his mouth Kennedy had realized that Tod didn’t plan on stopping. He wasn’t going to listen to Bobby and Bobby likely wouldn’t care about Tod’s insubordination. Kennedy was going to be beaten to death.

  
Tod was shouting something at him but the ringing in his ears was too loud for him to hear.

  
The blows stopped briefly but only so Tod could yell more clearly. Kennedy still couldn’t hear and didn’t bother trying to. A flash of metal had caught his eye.

  
Kennedy slowly came back to his body, not having realized he’d begun to leave it in the first place.

  
_I still have my butterfly knife in my pocket._ Kennedy realized. _And he has my gun_.

  
The butterfly knife was pressed against the floor in Kennedy’s back pocket so he instead went for the gun.

  
Tod didn’t even realize he had taken it until Kennedy was pressing the gun to his forehead and pulling the trigger.

  
Blood sprayed everywhere and Tod slumped forward lifelessly onto Kennedy.

  
Somehow he found the strength to push him off.

  
Kennedy remembered too late that the other one, Derek, was still in the car with him.

  
There was a blur of movement and then Derek stood above Kennedy, revolver pressed shakily to his head.

  
Kennedy didn’t think before he shoved Derek’s gun away from himself.

  
The gun misfired just a few inches away from his face.

  
The sound of the gunshot set his ears ringing again.

  
Surprised by his gun going off unintentionally, Derek loosened his grip on the revolver allowing Kennedy to knock the firearm from his grip easily. The gun clattered to the floor and then slid out the car door.

  
Derek cursed rapidly.

  
Kennedy lifted his own revolver but Derek was quicker this time. He stomped on Kennedy’s right hand before he could lift the gun from the wooden floors.  
Kennedy felt a bone in his hand crack.

  
He cried out and loosened his grip unintentionally on the gun.

  
Derek kicked it to the other side of the car and took Todd’s place on top of Kennedy.

  
Kennedy’s hand screamed in pain as he blocked Derek’s first blow with it. He tried to knee him in the groin in a desperate attempt to get him off but his legs were stiff and weak beneath him.

  
The second blow hit him across the temple, making his eyes go spotty.

  
Without much thought Kennedy punched Derek back with his bad hand, hitting hard enough to send Derek and himself sprawling.

  
Kennedy choked on a scream at the pain that tore up his arm and tucked it into his stomach.

  
“ _Fuck_ ,” Derek muttered, spitting blood onto the wooden floorboards.

  
Kennedy pushed himself back with his good hand and leg until he reached a wall to help him up.

  
Derek was slow getting up but so was Kennedy.

  
As soon as he managed to prop himself up against the wall Kennedy pulled his butterfly knife from his back pocket.

  
Derek stood, his fury written all over his face. He screamed something nonsensical at Kennedy, looking deranged with the blood streaming down his chin.

  
Kennedy had knocked out one of his teeth.

  
Derek ran at him clearly not expecting the butterfly knife to be there when he reached him.

  
For once the knife didn’t cut Kennedy as he flicked it open and drove it into Derek’s throat.

  
Derek’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, eyes wide and frightened.

  
Slowly, Kennedy extracted the blade from his neck.

  
Derek choked on his own blood a few times, coughing and sputtering, and then collapsed onto the floor, blood pooling around him.

  
Kennedy’s hands shook so violently that he almost dropped his butterfly knife.

  
_I just killed two people_. He thought hopelessly. _Oh god, oh god, oh god_.

  
Kennedy leaned heavily against the wall of the train car for support.

  
Everything hurt. His face, his ribs, his hand, his leg, his soul.

  
Kennedy choked on a sob.

  
“I said not to kill the fucking guy, goddamnit, Todd.” Bobby’s voice leaked through the door.

  
Kennedy dived for his revolver, raising it just in time for Bobby to walk into the car.

  
Bobby froze at the sight before him.

  
Kennedy pulled back the hammer. “Are there any more of you?”

  
Bobby was still frozen in stunned silence.

  
“ _Are there any more of you_?” Kennedy gritted out through his teeth.

  
Slowly, Bobby dragged his eyes from the two bleeding bodies on the floor to Kennedy. “No,” he muttered. “It was just the three of us.”

  
The gun shook in Kennedy’s left hand, unused to the weight of the revolver.

  
Bobby grinned. “You won’t do it.”

  
Kennedy shot him in the head.

 

 

FOUR MONTHS LATER

 

 

Kennedy was called to Negan’s room the next morning.

  
He was exhausted and a bit hungover as usual. He’d slept in his own room because he hadn’t wanted to deal with Negan at the time but his unfamiliarity with his surroundings made finding sleep difficult.

  
When he was awakened groggily in the morning by at firm knock he knew he was being summoned. He’d lied to Negan twice in as many days and that was a big no no. So he dressed into one of his hated white button up shirts and dark dress pants and sleepily made his way to Negan’s bedroom.

  
Negan sat at the bar on his far wall, he was fully dressed in his usual ensemble: leather jacket, scarf, low riding jeans.

  
“It’s _early_ ,” Kennedy whined, stumbling towards the bar. “This couldn’t have waited until noon?”

  
Negan reached over the bar and grabbed a small glass and a bottle of whiskey. “Are you sober yet?”

  
Kennedy sighed, rubbing his temples. “As close as I’ll ever be.”

  
“Then look at me,” Negan demanded, poring himself a glass.

  
Kennedy groaned.

  
“ _Kenny_.”

  
Kennedy dragged his eyes up to Negan’s face. “ _What_?” He asked, trying to sound annoyed.

  
Negan took a sip from his whiskey. “Look, I want you to be comfortable here. That’s the point of this, isn’t it? So you can be comfortable? So you can be happy?”

  
Kennedy didn’t know what to say so he said nothing.

  
“I want you to be comfortable here,” Negan repeated. “And I’m not sure why you’d make that difficult for me.”

  
Kennedy’s gaze slipped down to the alcohol lining the inside of the bar longingly.

  
“Look at me.”

  
He forced his eyes back up to Negan’s.

  
“Someone hurts you and you tell me, someone threatens you and you tell me, understand?”

  
“Yes,” Kennedy whispered shakily.

  
“Okay, then tell me... did Tom try to rape you yesterday?”

  
Once again Kennedy considered throwing Tom under the bus. His absence would be a relief for Kennedy and most likely dozens of other residents at the Sanctuary, but Negan might not kill him.

  
The image of the skin peeling from Dwight’s face popped into his mind.

  
“No,” He answered slowly. “I was just drunk, he reached out to steady me and I overreacted. I’m sorry if I worried you.”

  
Negan didn’t believe him, he could see it in the annoyed set of his jaw and the firm look in his eyes.

  
Panic clawed at his insides.

  
But then Negan broke into an easy grin and patted Kennedy on the shoulder. “Alrighty then! Baby, do us all a favor and cut back on the alcohol, I worry for you.” His voice was to theatrical to be sincere.

  
Kennedy rolled his eyes but his heart wasn’t in it. “I’ll be fine.”

  
“If anything happens though, you’ll tell me, right?”

  
Translation: _Tell me next time so I can deal with it._

  
_Next time_.

  
Kennedy felt bile rise in his throat. “Of course,” he replied.

  
Negan flashed another smile and then leaned forward to kiss Kennedy messily. When he pulled back he patted Kennedy’s cheek fondly and then sat his half finished glass of whiskey in front of him. “I’ll be out for today, but I’ll see you tonight, right?”

  
Kennedy smiled, fighting off the sudden urge to cry. “Of course.”

  
At that Negan left him alone with the bar and his thoughts.

  
_Next time_.

 

 

FOUR MONTHS BEFORE

 

 

When Kennedy came to everything was foggy. His body felt like it had been hit by a semi truck and his mind was groggy and useless. His eyelids were heavy and sticky as he peeled them open.

  
Light assaulted his sensitive eyes making him close them again. He tried to rub them by the moment he moved his thumb his hand began to scream in protest.

  
At the pain his eyes flew open and his memory came back as he observed his bruised and swollen right hand.

  
Kennedy cursed quietly.

  
He must’ve broken it when Derek stepped on it.

  
_Not good._

  
Then he blearily caught sight of his leg.

  
The sight of it alone made his breath catch.

  
He’d had enough forethought to tie his belt around his thigh in a makeshift tourniquet before he passed out which seemed to have stalled the bleeding and from the smeared blood over his surroundings and the small warped ball of metal that sat a few feet away he assumed that he removed the bullet from his leg. But he hadn’t stitched up the wound yet.

  
Shakily, Kennedy reached for his bag where it sat against a counter opening it unsteadily and pulling out his small first aid kit.

  
After he’d shot Bobby Kennedy gathered his things and had slowly made his way to the front of the train, somehow finding the front car and then the brake. Once he’d gotten off the train he’d hurried to find shelter, knowing with the amount of blood he was losing that he wasn’t going to remain conscious for long. He’d barely made it to the old cabin before everything began to spin. Awkwardly, he’d hurriedly tied his belt around his leg, dug the bullet from his thigh with his fingers and then at the pain he’d passed out.  
His fingers were stuck to the plastic container as he struggled to open it with one hand. Once he got it open he carefully pulled a needle and sutures from it and got to work on his leg.

  
Kennedy had been eight when his father had taught him to stitch a wound. He’d been playing with Shaun in the barn when he’d tripped and cut himself on an old nail that had been sticking out from one of the support beams. The cut had been small but deep, taking up a good portion of his upper arm. Then as he saw the blood began to well underneath his long sleeved Spider-Man shirt he fell again, this time onto a old hunk of sheet metal successfully cutting up his knee as well. At first as his father stitched his arm he’d been unable to watch despite his encouragement to learn, too squeamish. But then as Hershel got started on his knee he’d found himself watching as his father pulled the skin back together. Kennedy had become quite skilled at it over the years, helping stitch wounds when his father couldn’t help. There was an extra challenge to it when he was doing it with his less dominant hand after losing a decent amount of blood, though.

  
He worked on it slowly until his vision began to swim again, then he sped up his progress, more interested in making sure he didn’t have a gaping hole in his leg when he woke up from inevitably passing out then doing a good job at putting it back together.

  
By the time he finished his leg was throbbing hotly and his entire right pant leg and the sleeves of his sweatshirt were covered in blood.

  
Kennedy’s head throbbed as he leaned it against the counter he was laying against.

  
The room faded and then refocused so quickly it was painful. The little bit of light that came from a window on the far wall became brighter until Kennedy had to squint every time he opened his eyes. The floor felt like it was tilting beneath him.

  
Kennedy thought he saw a flash of blonde hair, blue eyes, a wide white smile.

  
“Come along, Kenny,” Beth whispered, her accent sounded like home.

  
Then everything went black again.

 

 

FOUR MONTHS LATER

 

 

Kennedy could not find Sherry anywhere.

  
He was looking for her, intending on telling her the tale of Tom the Tool, when he realized she was nowhere to be found.

  
He considered that maybe she was avoiding him after their conversation the day before but Sherry wasn’t one to shy away from confrontation. If she was mad at Kennedy she would’ve told him.

  
He was making his way into the lounge when he caught sight of long brown hair, broad shoulders, a ratty set of dirty white sweats with the letter A spray painted on the back in orange.

  
Next to him Dwight wore his old vest, the angel wings on the back looking worn and dirty.

  
Kennedy blinked.

  
They were gone.

  
“Kennedy?” A voice came from behind him, breaking him from his stunned silence.

  
He spun around.

  
Norah stood behind him looking both confused and a bit annoyed. “I’ve said you name like five times. You alright?”

  
No, no he wasn’t.

  
Kennedy turned back to look down the hall.

  
Still no Daryl.

  
Kennedy tried to calm his breathing. “I’m fine.”

  
He was just stressed out, worried about Sherry, pissed at Tom. It couldn’t have been real because...

  
_Daryl’s dead._ He reminded himself. _He’s dead, he’s dead, he’s dead, he’s dead._

  
“You sure?” Norah asked, still sounding more annoyed than anything.

  
Kennedy loosed a deep breath. “Yeah. What do you want?” He spun back around to face Norah.

  
“I was wondering if we could talk... in private...” She said hesitantly.

  
Kennedy rolled his eyes. “I’m a bit busy. Is it really important?”

  
Norah’s perpetual annoyance was back in an instant. “ _Yes_. It’s important.”

  
Kennedy sighed, matching her annoyance with boredom.

  
Norah gritted her teeth. “Come on.”

  
She led him down the hall to a metal door.

  
“This is a closet,” Kennedy pointed out.

  
“Hundred points for observation skills, Einstein. Get in.”

  
Kennedy scoffed.

  
“Come on,” then a bit reluctantly: “ _please_.”

  
Kennedy sighed once again. “Haven’t been in here since high school.” Kennedy joked, pushing open the closet door and stepping inside.

  
“What?”

  
“I was just- never mind.”

  
Norah tugged the string for the light, illuminating shelves of shoes.

  
“Well?” Kennedy asked, a bit impatiently.

  
“I wanted to talk to you in private... about Negan.”

  
“Okay...”

  
“About how he treats us as his spouses.”

  
“He won’t hit you if that’s what your wondering,” Kennedy stated.

  
“What? No-“

  
“He isn’t too rough in bed then-“

  
“No-“

  
“He pulls out?”

  
“ _No_!”

  
“Then fucking spit it out!”

  
“I want you to help me escape!”

  
Kennedy was frozen in a state of disbelief for a second but then he recovered and burst into laughter.

  
“It’s not funny...” Norah muttered, confused.

  
Someone was trying to get him in trouble. This had to be a set up. Two of Negan’s wives asking him to help them escape the Sanctuary in as many days. It couldn’t be a coincidence.

  
Kennedy leaned forward and clutched his aching stomach. “Are you _stupid_?” He asked between giggles.

  
“The other girls told me your Negan’s favorite. They also told me you drink like a sailor and that most think it’s your way of coping.”

  
Kennedy scoffed again.

  
“Come on, you can’t honestly tell me you like it here.” Norah shot back venomously.

  
Kennedy thought of the previous night with Tom.

  
He hated it. God, he hated it. But he'd hated living out there even more.

  
Norah must’ve seen it on his face because she shook her head. “Even if you don’t want to leave- you must know how to get out, you must know a way.”

  
Kennedy felt his lips tug downward.

  
“Please,” Norah’s voice cracked. “I can’t sleep with him. I can’t do it, _please_...”

  
The poor girl looked near tears but Kennedy couldn’t bring himself to sympathize.

  
“Sorry...” Kennedy muttered.

  
Norah’s expression steeled. “No you aren’t.” She shook her head and swiped viciously at her cheek as a stray tear escaped. “You don’t have anyone, right? You don’t know what it’s like giving up this part of yourself for the people you love, right? You don’t know what it’s like to visit your boyfriend every other day and watch him as he trys to figure out whether or not you screwed some other guy to keep him from being eaten alive, _right_?” She was crying now, tears streaming down her face, leaving streaks of makeup in their wake.

  
Kennedy sighed. “I _can’t_ help you.” And with that, left Norah in the closet and went in search of Sherry.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo!  
> I hope you enjoyed!  
> The next chapter will be a big one (I think?)unless I change my plan for it last minute.  
> I spent my weekend at Walker Stalker con!!! It was amazing! You know, besides the hoards of people, the long lines, and the lack of affordable food and beverages. I got a photo op with Norman Reedus (I almost fainted), a few signatures, and a shitload of amazing selfies with Tom Payne himself! I look horrible in them but he's adorable, so thats all that really matters. I posted them on my tumblr if you are interested in seeing them.   
> Kudos soothe my anxiety and comments clear my skin.


	5. Chance Encounters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kennedy’s injuries cause a close call. Three months later everything begins to spiral into chaos at the Sanctuary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooooh boyo!!  
> This took fucking forever. At least that’s what it feels like.  
> Life has been chaotic? I started school late so I’ve been juggling classes, my grandfather recently passed away, and I’ve just been rather overwhelmed in general. A good chunk of this chapter has been pre-written but a lot of it wasn’t, so it took some time to write everything out.  
> Anyway, this is a long one, possibily the longest so far.  
> I hope you enjoy!!!!  
> Sorry if it's shit!!!!!!!!!!

The paved road seemed to stretch on forever. The tall trees surrounding it only went to further the illusion as they blocked sight of the street, making it seem narrow and infinite.

  
Leaf litter and a few stray plastic bags filled each of the potholes. It was hard to even tell they were there with how little was visible beneath the build up.

  
Kennedy stumbled down the road gracelessly, limping over his swollen leg.

  
It had been a few days since he’d been shot and his wounds were doing surprisingly well.

  
His face had lost a good amount of the swelling and the bruising had settled into a bluish purple color around his eye and jaw. His leg was tough to work around but the stitching was holding and it didn’t look infected, though it had gained some dark bruising and some swelling around the entry wound. The hand was the worst of them; he was used to using his right hand for everything so just trying not to use it was a struggle in itself, eventually he’d found a wrist splint that was meant for twisted wrists and sprains but made it work with his hand. At the very least it reminded him he wasn’t supposed to be using it.

  
Kennedy’s progress was slow as he stumbled along the road, he hated being so out in the open but when he’d tried to walk through the woods the uneven terrain had made his leg almost gave out underneath him.

  
Luckily, he hadn’t broken his ribs after being kicked a few times, but he did have some nasty bruising along his sides.

  
Pain shot up Kennedy’s leg as he put too much weight on his bad leg.

  
He hissed through his teeth, hurriedly balancing his weight on his good leg.

  
Kennedy’s hand hovered shakily over his thigh until the pain diminished.

  
It was healing well but ‘healing well’ for a bullet wound wasn’t always superb.

  
His whole right thigh was so swollen that he couldn’t remove his jeans all the way. He’d briefly considered cutting them off but it had seemed like a waste of clothing. There was a bruise the size of a baseball around the entry wound, it hurt every time he even thought of moving it, and he had to take extra care not to pull his stitches. But at least it wasn’t infected, at the _very_ least.

 

 

FOUR MONTHS LATER

 

 

Kennedy didn’t end up seeing Sherry again until a day later and when he did she acted like the whole conversation about leaving hadn’t happened. Kennedy told her about Tom and about Norah but Sherry was too distracted to offer any good sarcastic comments nonetheless genuine advice.

  
Kennedy took a long drag from his cigarette. “You alright?” He asked hesitantly.

  
Sherry blinked. “What?”

  
Kennedy just rolled his eyes.

  
“Sorry, I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

  
Kennedy hummed in response.

  
“So, Norah...”

  
“What about her?”

  
“Is she gonna be a problem for you?”

  
“Now you sound like Negan,” Kennedy muttered around his cigarette.

  
Sherry frowned. “How so?”

  
Kennedy just shook his head, less of a response and more of an attempt at shaking the memory out of him.

  
Sherry watched him carefully, brows pulled together in an expression frighteningly close to concern.

  
Kennedy took another drag.

  
“I’m going to be busy for the next couple of days.”

  
He let the smoke out with a long huff. “With what?”

  
Sherry smiled, almost sadly. “None of your business.”

  
“ _Okay._..”

  
Across the clearing, Saviors began to gather, waiting for supplies to arrive.

  
Once Negan came out to join them Kennedy stubbed out his smoke and put the remains back in his pack.

  
He hadn’t ever smoked before until he met Sherry. It was a habit that Negan wasn’t fond of and though Negan allowed it he didn’t want to directly disrespect him, especially not in front of the other Saviors.

  
Distantly, a set of trucks came into view.

  
“I’m gonna go in,” Kennedy said, returning his cigarettes to his pocket. “You coming?”

  
“In a little bit,” Sherry replied.

  
Kennedy nodded and spun on his heels, tugging the metal door open roughly and stepping back inside.

  
He had almost reached the lounge when he heard the gunshots.

  
Several in quick succession, likely from an automatic weapon.

  
The sound of the shots were familiar, they’d been just about all he could hear when the prison fell, along with the distant boom of explosions.

  
The first few shots made him freeze in his spot.

  
Images popped into his head without permission; one of the guard towers on fire, the fences down, walkers spilling in over the fields, a collapsed catwalk, his father’s decapitated head.

  
“Kenny. Hey, _Kennedy_!” A bubbly voice saved him from his thoughts.

  
Kennedy spun around to face Justin.

  
Justin was a young Savior and one of the few good ones, he had joined the group a few months before Kennedy, with a sick grandmother and two ten year old nieces in tow he hadn’t had much of a choice in working for the Saviors or not.

  
“We need to go, to Negan’s room.”

  
Kennedy blinked slowly. “What?”

  
“Emergency protocols, I’m supposed to take you to Negan’s room if we come under attack.”

  
“Are we under attack?”

  
“Well- I... don’t know...” Justin trailed off, stupefied. “There were gunshots,” he continued after a moment of contemplation. “That means we are under attack.”

  
Kennedy shrugged. “Then lead the way.”

  
Justin smiled gratefully at Kennedy’s cooperation.

  
They’d made It halfway to the bedroom when Justin’s radio cut in.

  
Negan’s delighted voice filtered over the radio. “False alarm, kiddos. The situation has been handled, I’ll be having a guest over this afternoon though so prepare for company.”

  
Kennedy raised a brow.

  
Justin lifted his radio to his mouth. “Copy that, I’ve got Ken with me right now, do you want me to take him somewhere?”

  
Kennedy was used to being kicked out of meetings and get togethers so Negan’s next words weren’t all that surprising.

  
“I’ll be making my rounds with him, keep Kenny out of the way, and check with whatever the fuck is going on with Amber.”

  
Justin shot Kennedy a nervous look but he kept his face carefully blank.

  
“Copy that, boss,” Justin said into the receiver. Then to Kennedy; “Sorry about that.”

  
“Don’t worry about it.”

  
Justin’s mouth pressed into a line. “Maybe... just lie low... for a little while.”

  
“It’s fine, Justin. I understand,” Kennedy said, slowly backing towards the stairwell.

  
Justin’s guilt was palpable. “Sorry,” he muttered once more and bolted towards the loading docks.

  
Kennedy followed after him but turned once he reached the door to the stairwell.

  
He wasn’t too concerned about the shooting. There were too many people at the Sanctuary and with the Saviors in general for an attack to cause much damage. It was one of the reasons he refused to go with Sherry when she asked him to run away with her. There were too many bodies with the Saviors, If Negan decided he wanted the two of them found Sherry and Kennedy would’ve had to leave the state before they’d be even close to in the clear. Negan’s men would’ve found them within a day.

  
Kennedy sighed and pressed his back against the cool metal of the stairwell door.

  
Not many people used it anymore, there were easier ways to get where you wanted to be and the dimly lit path and cracked steps didn’t make it the safest of passageways.

  
Kennedy pulled his pack of smokes from his pocket once again and removed his half smoked cigarette from earlier.

  
Even if they had made it out of the state there was nowhere to go. No more safe havens, at least not like the Sanctuary, not like the prison.

  
Kennedy placed the cigarette between his teeth and lit it with his lighter.

  
He took a long pull of smoke and held it in his lungs.

  
_If dad saw me smoking..._

  
All at once he wanted to laugh and cry at the thought.

  
_If dad saw me drinking._ His mind supplied a second later.

  
Kennedy smiled sadly.

  
_I really am a mess aren’t I?_

  
Everything about the situation he was in seemed to scream wrong. He wasn’t stupid, he knew it was messed up the moment Negan asked him to marry him. But he was in a messed up world and truth be told he wouldn’t have lived without Negan.

  
Kennedy released the smoke with a sigh the hurried to take another drag.

  
If he was being honest he did feel guilty, about refusing to go with Sherry, about choosing not to help Norah, about taking from the workers, and about not standing up for those who didn’t have it as well as he did. Kennedy was fairly high up in the Saviors messed up hierarchy and all he used that power for was for booze and cigarettes.

  
_Dad would be pissed,_ He thought.

  
Kennedy exhaled smoke.

  
Above he heard one of the metal doors to the stairway open.

  
“Did you hear?” A muffled voice asked.

  
Kennedy stubbed his cigarette out against the wall and let the remains fall to the ground this time.

  
He was too sober for human interaction.

  
“What?” Another asked.

  
“Amber was caught with Mark again,” The first replied.

  
“ _Shit_ , is he dead?”

  
“Not yet, Negan hasn’t said what he going to do with him yet.”

  
Kennedy grimaced and pushed away from the wall.

  
He knew what Negan would do, the same thing he did to Dwight and countless others.

  
T _his is why you can’t help them_ , He reminded himself. T _hey’ll only get themselves in trouble, there’s nothing you can do about it._

  
But once again the image of Dwight’s skin peeling away from his face got caught in his mind and he couldn’t push it away, not even when he left the stairwell behind him and went in search of more alcohol.

 

 

THREE MONTHS BEFORE

 

 

After he had gotten shot Kennedy found himself quite strangely and suddenly drifting into exhaustion. Many days he’d be walking down the road or scavenging for supplies when he’d suddenly get so tired he could pass out. The feeling wasn’t new, after more than three weeks alone he still hadn’t found any long term shelter and still found it difficult to settle down for the night when he knew there was a high possibility of a walker and or another person coming along while he slept and killing him. The feeling was more prevalent, however, after he got shot. It was concerning to say the least.

  
His exhaustion reached its height midday as he was heading (slowly) to an old grocery store to scavenge for supplies.

  
He was already tired, he’d slept outside the night before therefore he’d gotten a scarce amount of sleep. So his sluggishness was to be expected.

  
His wound seemed to be healing, or he was just getting used to the pain.

  
Kennedy was maybe twenty feet away from the stores shattered automatic doors when he felt the world around him tilt. He wasn’t too sure how it happened, one second he’s limping onward and the next he’s plummeting to the ground and knocking himself out as his head smacks against the asphalt, one second he’s registering the impact of his head against solid ground and the next his vision is fading to black and his consciousness is forced into the oblivion.

  
Then, Kennedy woke up to the sound of snarling in his ear.

  
At first he thinks he imagined the sound as his head began to pound in beat with his heart, but then he felt a bony hand circle around his backpack straps and forced his eyes wide open.

  
The sun was blinding as Kennedy struggled back against the walkers grasp, his vision took a good fifteen seconds to return to normal but by then the walker had pulled itself on top of Kennedy and was snapping its jaw at him.

  
His arm was the only thing between Kennedy’s throat and the walkers teeth.

  
“ _Fuck_ ,” Kennedy gasped as his arm muscles quivered with the effort of keeping the walker at bay.

  
The walker twisted its head this way and that, trying to get a bite out of him.

  
Kennedy’s arms were too busy trying to keep the walker from biting him to pull out any of his number of weapons so instead he carefully wedged his good knee between himself and the walker and shoved it off. He crawled away from the walker as quickly as possible, pulling his butterfly knife from his front pocket and then stabbing at in semi blindly. At first he stabbed its shoulder, then its neck, and then finally its skull.

The walker went limp on top of him.

  
It took a considerable amount of Kennedy’s remaining strength to push the walker off of him but by the time he did it the walker had already ruined his already dirty clothes.

Blood was smeared all across his grey tee shirt, his hoodie, and his jeans. But there was a rather large amount of blood on his right thigh.

  
“Fuck,” Kennedy muttered, hurriedly checking his gunshots wound, and surely enough when he peeked through one of the holes in his ruined jeans he saw that the stitches in his leg had pulled.

  
_Shit._

 

 

THREE MONTHS LATER

 

 

It didn’t take long for Negan to call everyone into the Warehouse, as it was sometimes called. Kennedy had just opened a new bottle of whiskey when one of the guards told him. He probably could’ve skipped it, probably should’ve, but it felt too much like ignoring his problems and he was tired of feeling like he was ignoring his problems.

  
So he made his way there and found himself a spot in the catwalk up above where there weren’t any other people.

  
The Warehouse was already full of people when he got there, Negan had already started going on and on about something about loyalty or honor or some bullshit, Kennedy didn’t know, he wasn’t listening, he was too focused on the two faces in the crowd that he recognized. Two heads of long brown hair, one older, one younger.

 

  
“ _You’re like a brother to me, I think...”_

  
_“You think?”_

  
_“I wouldn’t really know what it feels like, I’ve never had a brother before.”_

 

 

“Oh God,” Kennedy leaned over the railing, suddenly feeling sick.

  
_No, no, no, no, no, you just drank to much is all._ His brain supplied. _You’re just imagining things._

  
But he hadn’t actually drank any of the whiskey that he’d opened, and he didn’t drink anything before that, and every time he looked up they were still there.

  
_God._

  
“You alright, Kenny?” Justin’s voice came from behind.

  
“Drank too much...” Kenny slurred, more due to panic then drunkenness.

  
“Shit, you need me to take you to Dr. Carson or something?”

  
“No!” Kennedy shot up straight. “I’m good, I’m good, I just... need some fresh air is all, that’s it, fresh air.”

  
“Alright, chill, chill.” Justin put a steadying hand on Kennedy’s shoulder and led him out to the loading docks.

  
The sounds of Marks screams followed them out.

 

 

“I’m alright, honestly,” Kennedy said thirty minutes later after his panic settled a bit.

  
“You sure?” Justin asked, from his perch by the door.

  
After they’d gotten outside Justin had jumped away from Kennedy as if he’d burned him, probably realizing how it looked for him to be escorting Kennedy with his arm around his shoulder.

  
“Yeah, I feel better now, thanks,” Kennedy answered pulling his cigarette carton from his back pocket.

  
“You positive?”

  
“ _Justin_! I’m. Good.”

  
“Right, sorry...”

  
Kennedy lit a cigarette. “It’s fine, sorry I yelled.”

  
Kennedy could hear the smile in his words. “No big deal, don’t worry about it.”

  
Kennedy took a drag then eyed Justin, holding the carton out to him in offering.

  
“Nah, no thanks, Anne and Diana would crucify me if they found out I started smoking.”

  
“Your sister a fan of Anne of Green Gables?”

  
“She was,” Justin said.

  
Kennedy frowned. “I’m sorry.”

  
Justin shrugged. “It is what it is.”

  
Kennedy took another drag.

  
“What about you? You have any siblings?” Justin asked, taking a seat next to him.

  
“I did.”

  
“Sister or brother?”

  
“Both.”

  
“I’m sorry, it sucks.”

  
“It does.” Kennedy rested his chin on his bent knee. “Your sister, how old was she?”

  
Justin squinted at the chain link fences or the workers beyond them. “Twenty five? Twenty six? Something like that, it was hard to keep track after everything happened.”

  
Kennedy nodded, he’d already lost track of his own age nonetheless the ages his sisters or Shawn would’ve been.

  
“And your siblings?” Justin asked after a pause.

  
Kennedy stood up from his spot by the safety bars and stubbed out his cigarette. “I should go back in,” he said.

  
“Right,” Justin said, sounding somewhat disappointed.

  
“See you around.”

  
He didn’t reply.

  
Kennedy shoved open the door back into the Warehouse. They must’ve cleaned up while they were out because there was no trace left of Mark or his freshly burnt face, only a light scattering of people across the open room.

  
As he made his way from the catwalk to the stairwell Kennedy considered where to go. There was a high possibility that whoever Negan’s “guest” was, was still around and with the possibility of that “guest” being someone he knew he didn’t want to risk running into them, not now, not while he was such a mess. He could go to the lounge, but it was likely Amber would be there and he didn’t want to deal with _that_.

  
Kennedy yanked the stairwell door open and hurried downwards, taking two stairs at a time.

  
But he was also more sober than he’d been in a few months and he didn’t think it was boding well for his sanity. He needed a drink, desperately.

  
He’d just reached the bottom platform when he saw Norah.

  
She was wearing a tight black dress and heels, same as the other girls, her dark hair was pulled back into a loose bun, and her round face was streaked with tears.

  
_Shit._

  
He wasn’t too set on any sort of interaction with any of Negan’s wives after the situation with Mark but he didn’t try to cover up the sound of his footsteps as he made his way to the platform.

  
As soon as she heard him Norah wiped her tears and gave him a defiant glare. “What do you want?”

  
Kennedy didn’t bother to reply to what was clearly going to lead to a hostile conversation, instead he just made his way to the door that she was next to and left her alone.

 

 

With his options limited, Kennedy eventually just decided to try Negan’s bedroom. He could’ve gone to his own but he needed a drink and there wasn’t any booze in his room.

  
Once he reached the door he immediately sighed in relief as he noticed the lack of guards, no guards, no Negan. Surely enough when he opened the door he found the room empty.

  
He stumbled to the bar almost drunkenly, although he wasn’t drunk yet, and grabbed his newly opened bottle of whiskey. For a moment he considered just drinking it out of the bottle but then thought better of it and fished a glass out from behind the bar.

  
Retreating to the small sitting area Kennedy felt himself sink into a strange sense of calm, or maybe it was just exhaustion. But as he sunk into the couch and poured himself a glass he felt at peace for the first time that day.

  
“Fuck,” he sighed, taking a long sip of whiskey.

  
He’d built up a life at the Sanctuary, as horrible and unstable as it was, and now it all just seemed to be falling apart. Piece by piece.

  
Finally, he allowed himself to think of what he’d seen earlier. Daryl and Carl. What had they been doing at the Sanctuary? If they actually had been there and Kennedy hadn’t just imagined them. He’d thought everyone had died at the prison, there had certainly been enough bodies to suggest such. But if they were alive, and he actually had seen them, what were they doing at the Sanctuary? Negan had a fairly large amount of influence over a decently large amount of real estate so it wouldn’t surprise Kennedy if maybe one of the survivors had made it out of the prison and into Negan’s grasp but two of them? It seemed like a reach.

  
And if Daryl and Carl got out then couldn’t the others have escaped too? Rick, Michonne, Glenn, Maggie, _Beth_?

  
Kennedy pushed the thought away as quickly as he could and downed the rest of the burning whiskey.

  
He couldn’t afford to give himself hope like that.

  
_But I could’ve looked..._ he told himself.

  
“ _Fuck_ ,” he sighed again, pouring himself another glass.

  
Kennedy took a sip from his drink.

  
One of the windows opened.

  
Kennedy felt it more than heard it, the cool air came at him in a rush, forcing a stubborn strand of hair into his eyes.

  
Whoever was there was pretty good at being stealthy, Kennedy may have noticed him but he still hadn't heard anything.

  
Kennedy considered his options, he knew Negan kept a gun under the couch and under the bed and in the bedside drawer, but he didn't know why this person was here. If it was to steal shit or kill Negan then it was none of Kennedy's business but there was the possibility that someone somewhere had somehow figured out his place in Negan's life and decided to try taking him hostage. If that was the case then Kennedy had the guns and his trusty butterfly knife. But then again he was drunk already.

  
"Should I scream?" He found himself asking.

  
He was met with silence.

  
Kennedy took another sip. "Something tells me I shouldn't, but then again I don't have great instincts. Can I help you?" He continued, refilling his glass. "Want some? We've got all the greats whiskey, scotch, some tequila, even some decent wine."

  
"Maybe later," a voice replied. Male, older but not old, there was something oddly comforting about it, it was deep but not overly masculine, firm but not authoritative.

  
Kennedy turned to look at the man. He almost laughed, the man looked like a character out of a comic book or a action movie. He wore a black trench coat with a black hoodie beneath it and a grey skull cap, there was a piece of fabric that Kennedy, at first glance, had mistaken for a scarf but with further inspection seemed to be a sort of mask. The man had long brown hair with a full beard to match and striking blue eyes.

  
"Can I help you?" Kennedy repeated.

  
"Maybe," the man said. "How did you know I was here?"

  
Kennedy half leaned over the back of the couch. " _You forgot_  
_to close the door_." He stage whispered.

  
The man looked to the open balcony and back to Kennedy. " _Sorry_ ," he stage whispered back and went to close the door.

  
Kennedy grinned. "If your looking for Negan he's out."

  
The man looked around the spacious room. "This is his?" He asked.

  
"Ours," Kennedy said without thinking then turned around to take another sip from his newly refilled glass.

  
"Yours?"

  
"Yep!" Kennedy said, voice coated in layers of false cheer. "Honey payed extra for the pent house, nice view of the dead people."

  
The man sounded cautious, "Wait your telling me you're Negan's... _husband_?"

  
Kennedy finger gunned at him in affirmation.

  
"I didn't know he was married."

  
That made Kennedy laugh. "Oh, he's married alright."

  
"What do you mean?"

  
"I'm one of many," he stage whispered once again.

  
"What's your name?" The man asked, making his way to sit by him.

  
"Kennedy," he said.

  
The man frowned. "Like the president? You don't look like a Kennedy."

  
"My sisters used to call me Kenny." Kennedy replied softly, his mind briefly wandering back to that irrational hope. "What about you?"

  
The man smiled. "Promise you won't tell?"

  
Kennedy held out his pinky. "Pinky promise!"

  
The man laughed then and took Kennedy's finger in his own. "My name is Jesus."

  
Kennedy was quiet for a moment before bursting into loud unrestrained laughter.

  
The man, Jesus, smiled with him.

  
"Well, Jesus, I'm curious-" the radio Negan left by the bed went off.

  
"Excuse me party people I could use some back up down here, I've got a youngin' right here who's daddy is expecting him home for dinner and it's already three!" Negan's mockingly outraged voice cut through the receiver. "So if you don't mind I could use some help returning the boy to his rightful place, please and thank you." The last part was too loud to be considered serious.

  
Jesus frowned.

  
"Friend of yours?" Kennedy asked, sipping his drink.

  
"Can you help me?" Jesus asked, turning his serious gaze onto Kennedy.

  
"I can't help you kill him."

  
"No, no, no, no I just need to know where the prisoners are kept around here."

  
Kennedy felt one of his eyebrows rise. "That depends on who it is," he went to take another drink from his glass and frowned when he realized it was already empty. "If it's a goody goody who just forgot to pay his rent then they're probably on the fence or sleeping in the west wing. But they do keep the naughty ones in their own personal cages, you can find it just by the far exit." He pointed vaguely at the other side of the room, indicating the far exit.

  
Kennedy wasn't entirely sure why he said it.

  
"Thank you," Jesus said, standing and making his way to the door. "This means a lot."

  
Kennedy laughed. "I doubt that, good luck, Jesus!" He called after the man.

  
Then Jesus was gone and Kennedy was alone again.

  
He sighed and refilled his drink.

 

 

The rest of the day went by slowly, blearily.

  
Kennedy downed a few more glasses of whiskey and a shot of tequila before heading out in search of Sherry, but once again, he couldn’t find her.

  
He knew he was particularly drunk when he, for some reason unknown to him, decided to ask one of the other girls about it.

  
All of them were still upset on Amber’s behalf so when Kennedy came in drunk and insensitive none of them took it well. He left the lounge when the angry glares became too much.

  
He was halfway down the hall when Norah caught up with him.

  
“Hey,” She said casually.

  
Kennedy snorted.

  
“I want to talk to you.”

  
“Of course you do,” Kennedy sighed. “I’m busy right now can I take a message?”

  
Norah’s nose wrinkled in disgust. “Are you _drunk_?”

  
“If you have to ask then your dumber than I thought.” Kennedy tried to quicken his pace but only succeeded in making himself dizzy so he slowed down again.

  
Norah sighed then grabbed his arm.

  
“ _Hey_!” Kennedy shouted, pulling back.

  
“Shut up! I need to talk to you.”

  
“I thought we already settled this.”

  
“No, we haven’t. Come on.” She tugged on his arm and Kennedy followed her reluctantly into the closet again.

  
“Listen,” she started, turning to face him. “I know this is going to be a hard decision for you to make-“

  
“I’ve already made my decision. I told you no.”

  
“I know, but-“

  
“I can’t help you, Norah.” Kennedy’s voice raised a bit more than intended.

  
Norah’s expression shifted from one of desperation to one of annoyance.

  
“You don’t get it,” She said, clearly loosing patience.

  
“Oh, I get it, trust me. But I cannot help you. I don’t know how many ways I can tell you.” Kennedy reached for the door but Norah blocked his path.

  
“I have a _family_ to look after!”

  
“You have a _boyfriend_ , there’s a difference.”

  
“Not to me.”

  
Kennedy scoffed. “Listen, you want to leave? Just leave. I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

  
“We don’t know this place, they keep Mike locked up with the other workers, I barely leave the lounge-“

  
“ _I am sure you’ll figure something out_.”

  
“What’s your problem?”

  
“What’s my _problem_?” Kennedy laughed, a bit hysterically. “‘My _problem_ ’ is that a little girl who thinks she knows suffering after a week of luxury is coming to me with her issues. ‘My _problem_ ’ is that you keep asking me to do something that’ll probably get me killed just because your a bit uncomfortable. Is it too _hard_ for you? Is it too _troubling_? You poor baby. Try loosing your entire family, getting shot, and then having to fuck a guy you barely know for medicine, all without the support of a loving _boyfriend_. Is this too hard for you? Well, wait till you have to screw him, I’m sure you’ll be having a real tough time then.”

  
For a second the two of them sat in stunned silence, the only sound between them being Kennedy’s heavy breathing.

  
“Go to hell,” Norah muttered quietly, then she pushed the door open and disappeared down the hall.

  
Maybe, if he’d have been sober Kennedy would’ve apologized. Maybe.

 

 

Hours passed and Negan still hadn’t returned. Kennedy was almost concerned, almost.

  
The alcohol helped keep him occupied but he could only drink so much.

  
He was half leaned over the counter feeling, vaguely sick and sorry for himself when he felt a presence over his shoulder.

  
Slowly, as it took along time to lift his head from the counter, Kennedy turned to look at the man behind him.

  
Tom.

  
“This day just won’t fucking end will it?”

  
“What?” Tom asked, confused.

  
“F-fuck off,” Kennedy slurred. “ _a_ _sshole_.”

  
“Listen, Ken-“

  
“Don’t call me that. And why aren’t you out with Negan?”

  
“They didn’t need me.” He said it matter of factly but Kennedy heard the bitterness in his voice.

  
“Well, boohoo for you.”

  
Tom gritted his teeth. “I wanted to apologize,” he managed. “For the other night.”

  
Kennedy scoffed and turned to face the bar again. “Get out.”

  
“Listen to me.” He took the seat next to Kennedy’s left. “I know Negan asked you about it and I’m not sure why you lied, but I want you to know that I’m grateful for it.”

  
“Alright,” Kennedy started, fighting the urge to lean away from him. “Now I know.”

  
“I don’t expect you to forgive me-“

  
“Good.”

  
“But I wanted to apologize anyway and to thank you for helping me.” Tom rested his hand on Kennedy’s knee.

  
On instinct more than anything Kennedy pushed back from the counter, away from Tom, but his foot got caught in one of the legs of the barstools and he stumbled backwards. But before he hit the ground, of course, of course, Tom caught him at the waist and hauled him back up, propping him up against the bar.

  
“Woah there,” Tom chuckled.

  
Kennedy tried to squirm away but Tom’s grip was like a vice.

  
“I guess were even now, you saved me now I saved you.”

  
Their chests were almost touching.

  
“You alright?”

  
Kennedy couldn’t reply, if he did he’d throw up, or pass out or something.

  
“You’re looking a little pale there, Ken.” Tom ran his thumb across Kennedy’s right cheekbone. “Do you need to go to the doc?”

  
“No,” Kennedy choked out.

  
Tom hummed. “Well, call if you need anything,” he said, pulling back finally.

  
Kennedy only breathed when the door shut behind Tom.

  
His hands shook as he gripped the bar for stability.

  
Who was he kidding?

  
Kennedy downed one more glass from the bar then pushed away from it.

  
_Who are you kidding?_

  
He stumbled out into the hallway and let his feet carry him through the halls.

  
_Did you really think this would work?_

  
A few people greeted him as he walked by but his vision was too blurred to make out faces.

  
_This is your fault, yours!_

  
Eventually, he wasn’t exactly sure how, he made it to the lounge.

  
_You chose this!_

  
From there he somehow found Norah.

  
“Can we talk?”Kennedy whispered.

  
Other girls around the room eyes the two suspiciously.

  
Norah glared at him. “No.”

  
“If you don’t want to hear what I’m going to say then I’ve severely misjudged this situation.”

  
At that Norah raised a brow questioningly.

  
_What did you think was going to happen?_

  
Kennedy led the way to the closet this time, Norah following closely behind.

  
_What you thought you were just going to live happily ever after when Negan asked you to marry him?_

  
“So what’s this all about?” Norah asked when the door swung shut behind them.

  
_That was never how it was going to go._

  
“I’m gonna help you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :):(:)  
> So, what’d you think? Yay? Nay? Bit of both? Tell me in the comments.  
> I just want to thank everyone who’s taken the time to read this fic so far and leave kudos, it really means a lot to me. I’m not sure if you can tell but I’m not very confident in my writing and getting feedback from all of you really helps.
> 
> P.S. I’m pretty sure Negan’s room is on the second floor of the Sanctuary and I know Jesus didn’t likely scale the building to break Carl and Daryl out but it worked with the plot of this fic and I thought it was funny. :P


	6. The Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kennedy's condition worsens. Three months later Kennedy sets his plan for Norah's escape into motion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is another long one! It has taken awhile (as always) but here is chapter six. I think each chapter I write is a few hundred words longer than the last lol.  
> School sucks btw.  
> Quick little TW for attempted rape about halfway through the chapter, if you want me to mark a warning before it just say so in the comments and I'll edit the chapter.  
> I hope you like it! A lot happens.

When Negan finally returned later that evening he was monumentally pissed. So much so that when he found Kennedy in their room he’d swiftly sent him away without a joking comment about having a shitty day or a quick kiss.

  
Kennedy didn’t object, he didn’t like dealing with Negan when he was happy nonetheless when he was pissed. So he instead slept in his room that night and, for once, got a full night of sleep.

  
When he woke up he was horrifically hungover but vaguely refreshed, until he ended up puking up the contents of his stomach (various alcohols) while in the shower. But other then that and the pulsing headache he felt good, productive.

  
Because he thought he likely wouldn’t have to see Negan, Kennedy opted out of wearing his usual button up shirts and dress pants and instead dug an old tee shirt with the NASA logo on it and a pair of minimally ripped jeans. The shirt was two sizes too big on him but Kennedy couldn’t bring himself to care.

  
People seemed shocked to say the least; to see Kennedy walking around in normal clothes, chugging water instead of booze. He got more than a few odd looks as he made his way down to the Market, as some called it.

  
It was a sea of people, tables, and things. From food to weapons, you could get just about anything at the Market. Just about.

  
Kennedy didn’t go there often, at least not personally. Usually when he needed something he’d just ask Negan or one of the guards about it. But there was something in particular he needed that required him personally. Really, he didn’t need to go to the Market, he needed to go through it. Because through the Market was one of the side entrances to the Sanctuary.

  
Kennedy finished off his water bottle as he reached the door, he discarded the bottle to the side and shoved the door open, stumbling out awkwardly.

  
The guard assigned to the door looked up as soon as he heard the door open, light reflecting off his bald head.

  
The sudden movement succeeded in making Kennedy dizzy which then lead to nausea, he didn’t mind, it only made his performance more believable.

  
Kennedy leaned over the metal safety railing and threw up onto the dirt.

  
“ _Jesus_ , Kenny?” The guard, Marco, asked. “You alright?”

  
Kennedy retched in response.

  
“Fuck, should I go get the doc?”

  
“ _Mmmno_ ,” Kennedy mumbled, wiping his mouth. _“S’fine_.” He straightened a bit and faced Marco.

  
“ _Marcooooo_ ,” he sing songed as drunkenly as he could manage in his sober state. “I haven’t seen you in _forever_.”

  
Marco seemed caught between being concerned for Kennedy’s well being and being pleased at being remembered.

  
“You’re married now, right? _Good for you_!” Kennedy rubbed Marco’s bald head for emphasis.

  
Marco chuckled sheepishly. “Yeah, Josie. Have you met her?”

  
“I think so,” Kennedy’s voice lowered to a whisper. “Is she the pretty one with the face tattoo?”

  
“Sure is!” Marco said proudly.

  
“Man, so they have you off then? To be with your family?”

  
“Nah, lotta shits been going down recently, they’ve got extra security all around the damn place, not the east exit though, too many walkers around.”

  
“They have you posted here all the time?”

  
At that Marco looked suspicious.

 

“My smoking buddy hasn’t been around much lately, will you?”

  
Marco grinned. “Yeah, man, stop by any time.”

  
Kennedy smiled sloppily back. “Good, I’ll see you around. Bye bye.” And with that he left Marco alone.

  
_Not the east exit_.

 

 

THREE MONTHS BEFORE

 

 

As soon as he’d seen the blood seeping through his torn jeans he’d hurried to tend to his wound.

  
It didn’t help.

  
When he’d realized that some of the walkers blood had gotten into the wound he’d ran (more like walked as quickly as he could) to the store he’d been meaning to go to.

  
It didn’t help.

  
Once he got there he scoured the shelves for rubbing alcohol, he didn’t find any but he did find some vodka and decided that would work just fine.

  
It didn’t.

  
Kennedy poured the alcohol on his leg, wincing at the sting. Then he got to work on sewing his leg back up again.

  
_It didn’t help._

 

 

THREE MONTHS LATER

 

 

“When?” Norah asked, her voice coated in nervous excitement.

  
“Either tomorrow or the day after,” Kennedy replied, fiddling with his butterfly knife. “Depending on how things go. I’ll get you out first then Mike.”

  
“ _What?_ No!”

  
Kennedy sighed and pushed away from the wall. “He’ll slow you down and he’ll slow me down, I can’t juggle you both at the same time. I’ll get you out first then him a few days later.”

  
Norah shook her head, her dark hair whipping out of its bun. “No, I won’t leave without him.”

  
“You won’t be leaving without him, you’ll meet up with him somewhere, I don’t need to know where. I’m sure you can manage that at least, right?”

  
Norah narrowed her eyes at him. “How do I know you aren’t setting us up?”

  
Kennedy pointed at her with the butterfly knife. “You’re the one who came to me with this! If you don’t want my help anymore then just tell me to fuck off and I will.”

  
Norah just shook her head. “They’ll kill him.”

  
“No, they’ll kill him if they catch you leaving with him. If we’re lucky they won’t notice you’re gone and then I won’t have to work around the aftermath.”

  
“And you?”

  
“What about me?”

  
“When will you leave?”

  
Kennedy scoffed. “I won’t.”

  
“Oh _come on_ -“

 

“You said it yourself, I don’t have anyone, I have nowhere to go.”

  
“That’s not what I said and you know it.”

  
Kennedy rolled his eyes and leaned against one of the closest shelves. “Whatever, it doesn’t matter. Just have your shit ready, got it?”

  
Norah nodded, she looked as though she were about to say something else when the door opened.

  
“Kenny?” Tom asked. “What are you two doing?”

  
Kennedy groaned. “Making out, playing hide and go seek, comparing notes on Negan’s dick, either way it’s none of your business and we were just getting to the good part.”

  
Surprisingly, at that Norah laughed.

  
“Haha,” Tom said, monotonous, looking between then suspiciously. “You’re hilarious.”

  
“It’s a gift.”

  
“I’m leaving,” Norah cut in, squeezing past Tom to the hallway.

  
Once she left Tom eyed Kennedy.

  
“Move.”

  
“No.”

  
Kennedy wasn’t willing to squeeze past him and Tom knew it. He was cornered.

  
“What were you two doing, really?”

  
Kennedy tried to scoff but his nerves made it difficult. “Are you jealous?”

  
“Maybe.” Tom stepped forward, closing some of the distance between them.

  
Kennedy stiffened as Tom took a strand of Kennedy’s long hair in between his thumb and forefinger.

  
Tom took a deep breath and then sighed it out. “Negan will want to see you later.” He said, and then left Kennedy feeling as though he needed to take another shower.

 

 

THREE MONTHS BEFORE

 

 

Kennedy knew when he woke up that next morning that everything had gone horribly wrong.

  
His leg, once painful, but healing was even more swollen then it had been and felt as though it were on fire, actually everything felt like that. He was sweaty, nauseous, tired, painful, and dizzy. Everything felt like it was underwater. Every step he took set his entire body burning, every breath he’d take was pure fire. Kennedy had made it maybe a mile before he had to rest, his vision blurred, his breath labored.

  
Somehow he found a small bench and decided to rest there. He slept on that bench that night, and then ate there the next morning, and then threw up what he ate there an hour later.

  
“ _Fuck_ ,” Kennedy choked out, wiping the sweat from his eyes.

  
Around him everything felt out of focus as he stood, trying to lean his weight towards his left side, it didn’t help much. As soon as he stood the world swayed again and he had to sit down.

  
His head pounded, his leg throbbed, and his stomach growled.

  
Shakily, Kennedy reached into his purple backpack, his good hand holding the bag open and his bad hand feeling around the inside of the backpack. But he came up empty. He was out of food.

 

 

THREE MONTHS LATER

 

 

Negan ran his palm up Kennedy’s sweaty bare sides. “Sorry about earlier,” he said, not sounding at all sincere. “Had a rough day.”

  
It was early morning, the sun had still yet to poke through the massive window of Negan’s room.

  
Kennedy hummed and turned to face him.

  
He didn’t ask but he didn’t need to.

  
“Some bitch shot Lucille.”

  
It took a second for Kennedy to recognize the name for Negan’s bat. “Why?”

  
“She was trying to kill me,” Negan answered as though it was obvious. “Then, one of our prisoners escaped.”

  
Kennedy thought of “Jesus” or whoever he was and frowned, trying to feign sympathy for him.

  
“Not to mention that shit with Mark, everything was a goddamn shit show.”

  
“What was with that shooting the other day?” Kennedy asked, his curiosity finally catching up with him. “Justin said it was a kid.”

  
“Yeah,” Negan sighed. “Nothing to worry about though.”

  
“I wasn’t worried,” Kennedy blurted out without thinking.

  
At that Negan grinned. “Of course not.” He stroked Kennedy’s cheek with his thumb. “You never worry when we’re in imminent danger.”

  
“You’re a big boy,” Kennedy said with a grin. “You can handle it.”

  
“I’m glad your feeling alright,” Negan said, tapping on Kennedy’s scars on his wrist. “After that shit with Sherry.”

  
Kennedy’s smile instantly disappeared. “Sherry? What about Sherry?”

  
Realizing his mistake Negan sighed, but before he could elaborate the door swung open.

  
“Well look at what we have here.” Simon’s loud voice filled the room. “The sun hasn’t even risen and they’re goin’ at it!”

  
Negan didn’t look bothered by the sudden interruption, in fact he almost looked relieved.

  
“Can I help you, Simon?” Negan asked calmly.

  
“ _Meeting_ , you said morning. It’s morning!”

  
As if on cue several of the Saviors flooded into the room. Gavin and Dwight wisely ignored Kennedy and Negan all together, Arat and Regina both laughed at their precarious position like Simon, but Tom looked the two over a bit too carefully and headed to the sitting area.

  
Kennedy’s skin crawled at the feeling of Tom’s eyes on his bare skin. “I’ll leave,” he said, pushing the covers off himself and grabbing his tee shirt from the floor.

  
“You don’t have to,” Negan said, standing as well.

  
When Kennedy gave him a confused look he elaborated. “Get cleaned up, leave when you’re ready.”

  
Simon chuckled at the implication behind Negan’s words.

  
Kennedy simply glared at him in response.

  
Tom’s eyes roamed over Kennedy’s bare torso as if he were memorizing the look of it.

  
Kennedy hurriedly pulled his shirt over his head, letting it bag over his legs, and headed for the bathroom. Shoving the door shut tightly behind him. When he reached to turn the water to the shower on his hands shook.

  
His train of thought refused to land in one spot, it just jumped back and forth.

  
Sherry.

  
Tom.

  
Sherry.

  
Tom.

  
Sherry.

  
As though summoned by Kennedy’s thought process, Tom slipped in through the door.

  
“Get out,” Kennedy tried to make his voice sound firm but he couldn’t help the shakiness that slipped out.

  
Tom didn’t make any move to leave but didn’t say anything either.

  
“If you don’t leave me alone I’ll-“

  
“What?” Tom cut in. “You’ll tell Negan?” He scoffed and took a step forward, forcing Kennedy back into the counter.

  
“You know I will.”

  
Tom rolled his eyes. “You won’t, because he won’t just throw me away, he’ll throw you away too.”

  
“What are you talking about?”

  
“ _Norah_...”

  
Kennedy froze, confused, but the realization washed over him and he couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him. “You thought I was being serious earlier?”

  
“I _saw_ you two, I know what I saw.”

  
“You didn’t see _shit_.”

  
“Who do you think Negan will believe? You? Or me?”

  
It was true Tom had been at the Sanctuary longer than Kennedy, and that when it came to Negan’s inner circle Tom certainly had superiority. But Kennedy had seen what Negan did to men accused of rape, but he had also seen what he did to men accused of sleeping with his wives.

  
When Kennedy didn’t reply Tom closed the distance between them and pressed his lips harshly to Kennedy’s, pushing him up against the bathroom counter, his right hand pushing up Kennedy’s shirt.

  
Kennedy silently cursed himself for not putting his pants on as his butterfly knife was still in the front pocket of his torn jeans which were lying uselessly on the floor to Negan’s bedroom.

  
Tom’s free hand wrapped around Kennedy’s waist.

  
Kennedy shoved at his shoulders and wedged his knee between their two bodies and managed a swift hit to Tom’s groin, as soon as his grip loosened Kennedy shoved Tom away roughly, wiping is mouth.

  
“What the _fuck_ is wrong with you?” His voice and hands shook.

  
Tom looked up from where he’d crumpled on the floor, his face a mask of unadulterated fury. He stood up, fists balled, clearly planning on going back for more when the door swung open once again.

  
Kennedy expected to see Negan or Simon’s furious faces as they slipped in but instead he saw Dwight’s.

  
His voice was acid as he looked to Tom. “ _Get out_.”

  
“ _Excuse me_?” Tom was still pissed.

  
“Get out before I make you.”

  
“You don’t have it in you, _buddy_.”

  
“Try me.”

  
The room got very quiet, the only sounds breaking the silence being the shower and the sound of Negan’s muffled voice through the still cracked door.

  
Tom just shook his head and stomped out of the bathroom.

  
Dwight watched him go then turned to Kennedy, his expression softening slightly. “You alright?”

  
As soon as he said it Kennedy realized he was crying. “Yeah,” he wiped at his cheeks viciously with trembling hands. “I’m fine.”

  
“You sure?” Dwight reached, seemingly to pat him on the shoulder but then stopped, seemingly thinking better of it and returned it to his side.

  
Kennedy just gave him a dead look in response.

  
“Right.” Dwight nodded. “You shouldn’t let him get away-“

  
Kennedy scoffed. “Trust me, if I had my knife I would’ve buried it in his eye.”

  
Dwight eyed him skeptically but remained silent on the matter. “I need to talk to you, about Sherry.”

  
Kennedy frowned.

  
“She’s gone.”

  
“‘ _Gone_ ’?” Kennedy echoed. “What do you mean ‘gone’?”

  
“She’s dead.”

  
Kennedy felt his entire heart sink in his chest.

  
“Left a few days ago, Negan sent me to take care of her, so I did.”

  
At that Kennedy paused.

  
_Dwight killed her?_

  
He thought of Sherry’s extra carton of cigarettes, of the argument they’d had a few day before. It didn’t add up.

  
“ _Sure_ you did,” Kennedy said skeptically.

  
Dwight didn’t bother denying what Kennedy clearly thought, he simply turned around, and left Kennedy alone with his thoughts.

 

 

THREE MONTHS BEFORE

 

 

It’d been three days since Kennedy had eaten last. He’d searched houses, old grocery stores, gas stations, cars, and had come up empty. He was out of food, completely out of food, and after three days of starvation Kennedy was starting to think that he was going to die.

 

 

THREE MONTHS LATER

 

 

Kennedy took a long drag of his cigarette and motioned for Norah to take one as well.

  
She shook her heard and frowned disapprovingly at the carton.

  
“Your loss,” Kennedy said, closing the carton and shoving it in his back pocket.

  
She looked as though she might voice her visual disgust but then seemingly thought better of it. “What are we doing out here?” Norah asked, frowning out at the fence surrounding the east exit.

  
“Here, tonight.”

  
“Here?” Norah sounded surprised.

  
Indeed she had reason to worry, the reason the east exit wasn’t as well guarded as the others was the hoards of walkers that piled up on the fence. At any given time there were at least two dozen lined up. It wasn’t that the Saviors were afraid of the walkers, they just didn’t see reason to guard the fence when any sane person would run the other way at the sight of all the walkers.

  
“Tell the others you aren’t feeling well, stomach issues or something, something they won’t press on, then make your way here with everything you need. I’ll set up a distraction for the walkers and then you’ll have to make a run for it.”

  
“What about the guards?” Norah asked, scanning the area for any sign of them.

  
“There aren’t any, at least not now. I asked Justin about it, they clear the walkers out once a week but they come back within a day so they really only guard this place once a week.”

  
“This seems risky,” Norah commented, eyes on the hoard.

  
“It is, but I assumed you could handle yourself around them.” Then Kennedy frowned. “You can, right?”

  
Norah glared at him. “I can take care of myself.”

  
Kennedy raised his hands in a faux gesture of surrender.

  
“You’re sure this will work?”

  
“It’ll work.”

  
A cloud of uncertainty passed over Norah’s face but it was gone as soon as it had appeared. “Alright then. Tonight.”

 

 

When night rolled around the east exit was silent, save for the occasional rasp or growl from the walkers.

  
Nerves hit Kennedy in the stomach as darkness descend. He was sure this plan would work but he couldn’t see it through. If the unlikely possibility that Norah was caught on her way out became reality then Kennedy needed to be by Negan’s side, either to distract him from the situation or to lead him towards a lighter punishment.

  
Behind him he heard the metal door bang open.

  
He didn’t have to look to see who it was, the squeak of Norah’s sneakers and her light footfalls gave it away.

  
“I set up a distraction for the others, just in case they get nosey,” Kennedy said, shoving a stolen pistol into a duffel bag. “Let’s just say Miriam, or whatever the fuck her name is, won’t be feeling to great this evening.”

  
“That’s smart.” The voice came from behind him but it was not Norah’s.

  
Kennedy spun his head around. “What the fuck is he doing here?”

  
Norah held her hands up in a calming sort of gesture, it didn’t work.

  
“Norah, what the _fuck_ is he doing here?” Kennedy pushed off the ground and started for her but Mike stepped in the way.

  
“Don’t talk to her like that.”

  
Kennedy laughed bitterly but didn’t move any further.

  
“I couldn’t do it,” Norah said. “I couldn’t leave him.”

  
“You can and you will.”

  
“No,” Mike cut in, tying up his long blond hair. “I won’t let her go out there alone.”

  
“Was I talking to you?”

  
Norah stepped between them. “The plan would’ve gone the same either way, right?”

  
It would’ve, but that wasn’t the point.

  
“I told you why, I explained-“

  
Norah cut him off. “Yeah, And I call bullshit on your ‘explanation’.”

  
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

  
“It means that whether or not we left separately or not wouldn’t fucking matter if you thought we would get away!”

  
“Hey, hey!” Mike whisper-shouted. “You’re drawing them.” He gestured to the fence.

  
Surely enough when Kennedy turned to look the walkers, who’d been wandering idly last he’d looked, were piling up against the fence.

  
Kennedy ran his hand over his face. “Fine, fine,” he sighed. “You want to screw yourselves? Fine, do what you want.” Before Norah could reply he turned back to the fence and picked up the duffel bag, shoving it into Mike’s chest.

  
“What is this?” Mike asked, opening the duffel. “Where did you get these?”

  
“Storage room, second floor,” Kennedy replied.

  
“You have access to that?”

  
“I do if I say Negan wants something.” Kennedy pulled one of the guns from the bag, this one was bright orange.

  
“So it’s true then, you’re really Negan’s husband.”

  
It wasn’t quite a question so Kennedy didn’t reply.

  
Norah answered for him. “Negan doesn’t really have a type.” And then to Kennedy, “What did you do to Maisie?”

  
“Her name is _Maisie_?”

  
“You’ve been here longer than me, you should know that.”

  
Kennedy rolled his eyes and checked the flare gun to see if it was loaded, it was. “I didn’t do anything to her.”

  
“Oh, please,” Norah said, pulling the pistol from the duffel.

  
“I got her drunk,” Kennedy said, annoyed. “For the daughter of our booze guy she does not know how to handle her alcohol.”

  
“Like you have any room to talk.”

  
Kennedy laughed humorlessly.

  
“Alright,” Mike said again. “Let’s not get snippy.”

  
Kennedy rolled his eyes again. “I’m going to fire this over there at that street light, see it?”

  
“Yeah,” Mike said, squinting at the long since dead street lamp. “Then what?”

  
“Wait until a majority of the walkers start towards it, don’t try to wait for all of them to go, it won’t happen and the others will get bored of the flare. There’s a two knives and another pistol in the duffel along with some food and a map, use the knives to pick off the rest of them and make a run for the tree line. About a mile out is a storage facility, the Saviors used to use it for the prisoners but it’s no longer up and running, get everything you need there and then run. Don’t spend the night there, they’ll find you.”

  
“Alright, one thing?” Mike asked.

  
“Yeah?”

  
“How do we get out?”

  
Kennedy sighed and then reached into the duffel again, removing a set of bolt cutters and handing them to him.

  
“Oh, cool.”

  
“What if the Savior’s see the flare?” Norah asked.

  
“They shouldn’t with the way the building is positioned but if they do then that’s why we have to be speedy.”

  
“I thought you said this was a good plan!” Norah shouted.

  
Mike shushed her.

  
“It is! Unless you have another idea as to what could attract this many walkers without also attracting the guards?”

  
Norah frowned and crossed her arms.

  
“That’s what I thought. Now, if you don’t mind...” Kennedy turned and fired the flare at the street lamp.

  
The flare lit up the walkers as it flew by, landing just a few feet shy of the lamp post where it remained, bright and alluring.

  
Surely enough once the walkers caught sight of the light they headed for it, like moths drawn to a flame.

  
“Alright,” Kennedy whispered, as to not attract any further attention. “Have a nice life.”

  
“Wait,” Mike said, also whispering. “Where are you going?”

  
“You gonna go tell on us?” Norah said it mockingly but there was a hint of concern in her voice.

  
Kennedy gave her a dead look. “No, I’m gonna go fuck the guy your trying to get away from to cover your asses.” And with that he left them to their own devices.

 

 

Kennedy sprawled across Negan’s plush couch and draped his arm over his eyes.

  
“What’s wrong with you?” Negan asked from the bar.

  
“A bit hungover,” Kennedy replied.

  
“You finally cutting back on the booze?”

  
“Not for long,” Kennedy replied, beckoning him forward with his free hand.

  
Negan obediently came forward with a bottle of wine in hand. It wasn’t Kennedy’s favorite form of alcohol but it would do.

  
Negan swatted at Kennedy’s legs when he reached the couch then sat where they’d been after he moved them.

  
Kenny placed them carefully on Negan’s lap when he’d settled.

  
“I’d figured that you’d be halfway to heaven with how much you supposedly drank with Maisie today.” There was a probing question to his words which Kennedy swiftly avoided.

  
“She did most of the drinking for the both of us.”

  
“I’m just curious is all.” Negan ran his hand up Kennedy’s calf.

  
“About?”

  
Negan handed him the bottle of wine. Kennedy took it but didn’t drink from it.

  
“I’m curious,” Negan started. “Why you’re spending so much time with my wives.”

  
As always his words were a double edged blade, either Kennedy brushes it off and gets caught in a lie or he admits to something that Negan may have had no prior knowledge of.

  
Kennedy laughed.

  
“What?”

  
And laughed.

  
“What?!”

  
And laughed.

  
“ _Jesus_ , Ken. Are you alright?”

  
Kennedy put a hand to his aching stomach and wiped his watery eyes. “Are you _jealous_?” He said teasingly.

  
Negan scoffed.

  
Kennedy sat up, eliminating some of the space between them. “Are you afraid I’m gonna fall in love with one of your pretty wives and run away with them?”

  
“I’m more worried about them stealing you.”

  
They were close now, only a breath apart.

  
“One of the girls?” He asked.

  
Negan rolled his eyes. “I’m not stupid.”

  
Kennedy grinned, his cheeks aching with the effort of it.

  
“Damn, you’re pretty.” Negan ran his palm up his thigh.

  
Kennedy pressed his hand to his chest in faux gratitude. “If that isn’t the _sweetest_ thing I’ve ever heard.” He teased.

  
Negan chuckled low in his throat. “God, I love you.”

  
This had happened a few times now and each time had Kennedy feeling more uncomfortable than the last. It made a tight feeling spread across his chest, like guilt or shame.

  
His smile felt uncomfortably tight, but he forced it to stay.

  
Kennedy said, “I love you too.”

  
Negan kissed him, slowly, languidly. His tongue, darted to brush Kennedy’s upper lip and he had to fight not to pull back.

  
He was reminded of Tom. Stupid, assholish Tom. The feeling of his hands on Kennedy’s waist and stomach. The slimy touch of lips on lips.

  
The thought alone made his stomach roll.

  
Negan pulled back. “You alright?” He asked. “You’re stiff.”

  
Before he could answer the sound of gunshots echoed from outside.

  
Panic made Kennedy’s already queasy stomach downright nauseous.

  
Negan paused, but after five shots they stopped. “Probably just some of the dead ones.”

  
Kennedy nodded and forced himself to lean in for another kiss.

  
He was saved however, by Simon.

  
The door shoved open and Simon stepped in.

  
This time Negan looked annoyed at the interruption. “The first time was a bit funny but this bit is just old now, Simon. _What do you want_?”

  
“Sorry to interrupt, boss. We’ve got a situation.”

  
Negan ran a thumb along Kennedy’s jaw. “Can you handle it?”

  
“I think you’ll wanna use your own personal expertise on this one,” Simon said.

  
Negan sighed and pushed off the couch, setting Kennedy’s legs down gently. “Sorry, baby. Looks like we’re gonna have to reschedule. Why don’t you just head on to bed, I’ll come get you if I have time afterwards.”He started for the door.

  
“But-“ Kennedy started.

  
At his interruption Negan paused. When it came to Negan’s duties as leader Kennedy didn’t interfere, ever.

  
“You already rescheduled our plans once, you wouldn’t leave me hanging again, would you?” Then to Simon: “Are you sure you can’t handle it on your own?”

  
Simon was looking increasingly uncomfortable with the situation. “Sorry, Ken,” he muttered awkwardly, looking between him and Negan nervously.

  
Negan returned to the couch but only to place a kiss on his cheek. His rough stubble scraped against Kennedy’s cheek. “I’ll be back.” He promised.

  
But he didn’t return that night.

 

 

Kennedy woke in his room the next morning, head throbbing. All sense of productivity he’d felt over the last couple of days was gone, nothing but bone deep exhaustion lay in its wake. The sun was high already so he guessed it was noon but he still had the urge to go back to sleep anyway. He probably would’ve but his headache just got more and more insistent as he lay in bed.

  
Getting up was a slow and clumsy process, it wasn’t until he got in the shower that he actually opened his eyes and when he did his eyes felt sticky.

  
He didn’t even drink that much the night before, he’d had maybe a sip of wine before leaving the bottle on Negan’s coffee table and heading to his own bed. He’d assumed if Negan really was that desperate to fuck that he’d send someone to get him but apparently that wasn’t the case.

  
Once he’d dressed in a white tee that advertised the name of a band he’d never heard of and a pair of dark jeans he headed for the Lounge. Partially to make sure everything had gone to plan and partially to apologize to Maisie for both getting her drunk and forgetting her name.

  
Kennedy couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief when he rounded the corner of the Lounge. Norah wasn’t there.

  
He found Maisie sprawled across one of the couches, a hand on her head. But before he could even think of apologizing a swarm on Negan’s wives descend and Kennedy found himself at the end of quite a few dirty looks.

  
He wisely decided to just steal a bottle of vodka and head for the stairwell for a smoke.

  
He didn’t realize how desperate he’d been for a real drink until he’d downed half the bottle just on the walk to the stairwell.

  
When he reached it he clumsily shoved the door open and planted himself on the floor next to the door.

  
It took some shifting but Kennedy eventually managed to pull his cigarettes from his back pocket and somehow managed to light one of them.

  
The smell and taste was acrid but it was strangely comforting. It was with an uncomfortable epiphany that Kennedy realized that was because they reminded him of Sherry.

  
_Sherry._

  
He hadn’t necessarily forgotten about her but Kennedy had had so much going on that he hadn’t really found the time to process the information Dwight had provided. Sherry was gone. She left and she wasn’t coming back.

  
A distant part of him felt betrayed that she’d left without him. A more prevalent part felt guilty for refusing to go with her.

  
_She got away_ , Kennedy told himself. _Sherry got away and Norah got away and Mike got away, that’s all that matters._

  
The door shoved open next to him.

  
“Occupied,” He slurred.

  
“Is that why you chose to stay? The booze?”

  
Kennedy’s head shot up. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

  
Norah gave him an unimpressed look. “What do you think?”

  
Kennedy felt every bit of contentment he’d been feeling slip away to be replaced by dread. “Mike?” He asked.

  
“Negan killed him.” She said it casually but there was something heavier in her tired eyes.

  
“Wha... what happened?” Kennedy managed.

  
“Things got hairy on our way out, the dead swarmed, I shot some of them down-“

  
Kennedy thought of the gunshots he heard the night before.

  
“The noise just drew more, Mike got bit, the Saviors found us out there five minutes later.”

  
“Norah... I’m-“

  
“You can say I told you so now.” Her voice was strained.

  
“I’m not that big of an asshole despite popular opinion,” Kennedy shot back.

  
“Oh please, you want to say it, I know you do. Just say it: _Norah if you weren’t so stupid and you listened to me the love of your life would be alive_ , say it!” Norah shouted, her voice echoing off of the stairwell walls.

  
“We should get our stories straight, figure out what we’re going to tell everyone,” Kennedy said instead.

  
“No need, I already told them everything.”

  
It took a whole minute for the betrayal to settle in.

  
“I was helping you,” he couldn’t help the shake in his voice.

  
“If you really wanted to help us you would’ve gone with us, you would’ve made sure we got out alright instead of running off to suck Negan’s cock.”

  
Kennedy didn’t know when he stood up or when he’d raised his hand but he felt the sting of the slap in his hand the moment of impact.

  
The sound of the hit echoed across the stairwell too.

  
“I-I’m sorry,” He whispered, slowly lowering his hand to his side again.

  
He’d dropped his cigarette in the scuffle, it was burning dangerously close to the filter.

  
“You aren’t.” Norah’s voice was low and furious so it was a shock when he looked down at him and he caught sight of tears lining her red cheeks. “But you will be.”

 

 

The guards at Negan’s door weren’t new however Dwight being one of them was.

  
The look on Dwight’s face said enough.

  
Norah hadn’t been bluffing about telling Negan.

  
Adrenaline hit Kennedy like a freight train, so sudden and unexpected that he thought he might fall over with the force of it.

  
_Run!_ The most human part of his brain screamed.

  
Kennedy pasted a huge drunken grin on his face as he closed the space between him and Dwight, sending a brief glance towards Tom who seemed delighted at the turn of events. “Hello there, D-bag. How can I help you?”

  
“Negan wants to see you.” Tom said with a wicked grin.

  
“Well how about that, I was just going to see him!”

  
“How about that,” Dwight agreed grimly.

  
“Go on,” Tom said, opening the door for him.

  
Kennedy gave him a sickly sweet smile on his way in that was too friendly to be real. His stomach twisted at the feel of it.

  
Negan sat at the bar with his back to Kennedy but heard him come in.

  
“Kenny! Baby...” He started, swirling a glass of dark liquid that was either wine or blood. “I’ve been hearing a lot of things about you recently.”

  
Lucille was propped up against the couch.

  
So that was how it was gonna be.

  
“All good things, I hope.”

  
Negan laughed, slow and not at all amused.

  
He spun on his seat and offered Kennedy a huge smile.

  
“You’ve been naughty, baby.”

  
Kennedy tried his best to summon a flirty smile. “Oh you’d know.”

  
Negan laughed. “I would, but not the good type of naughty if you know what I mean.”

  
Kennedy frowned as if he were just hearing about it, hoping his sudden seriousness would sway Negan. “What do you mean?” He asked, pretending to be confused.

  
“Now I wouldn’t have believed the accusations that were thrown my way if this had been your first offense but...” Negan trailed off and shrugged expansively.

  
“I have no idea what your talking about.”

  
“The first was you hanging around with that bitch Sherry-“

  
In his peripheral vision Dwight stiffened.

  
“The same one of my wives that cheated on me and ran away and now I get called in by yet another would be escapee and her boyfriend and she says you helped her do it. That you betrayed me.”

  
“I would never betray you.”

  
Negan slammed a hand down on the bar counter. “ _Do not lie to me_.” He roared.

  
Kennedy snapped his mouth shut.

  
Negan’s anger disappeared in a second, replaced by a sly grin. He pushed off of the counter and met Kennedy in the middle of the room. His hand brushed Kennedy’s and it was only then that he realized he’d pulled his butterfly knife out.

  
Kennedy let Negan take the blade from him, a nauseating feeling curling and uncurling in his stomach.

  
“Did you sleep with them?”

  
Kennedy blanched. “ _What_?”

  
“Norah and Sherry, did you sleep with them?”

  
Kennedy opened his mouth then closed it, struggling to think of how to phrase what he was going to say without making Negan angry.

  
“I thought you said you weren't stupid. I helped Norah try to escape,” he admitted. “But that was just her and I never slept with either of them.”

  
“Don’t lie to me,” Negan repeated, this time softly.

  
“I’m not lying,” Kennedy whispered, staring into Negan’s eyes.

  
He was quiet for a long moment but then Negan smiled. “I believe you, baby, I do.” He said. “But not everyone will, and I can’t have them thinking I’m going soft now can I?”

  
And then, before he could even think, Negan drove the butterfly knife into Kennedy’s left shoulder.

  
Kennedy stumbled backwards until he hit the back of the couch and sunk to the ground.

  
His brain struggled to comprehend that the butterfly knife he’d been learning to use for months was now buried in his shoulder, right below his collar bone.

  
At first shock delayed any immediate pain but then his brain processed that he had been stabbed and the pain hit him full force.

  
Kennedy’s breaths turned ragged and shallow and without thinking he reached for the black handle.

  
“Oh, baby, I wouldn’t.” Negan started. But it was too late, shakily Kennedy pulled the blade from his shoulder and watched as blood stained his white shirt.

  
Negan stepped forward and leaned down in front of him.

  
“This is you second strike. I won’t tolerate a third, understand?”

  
Chokingly Kennedy replied, “ _Yeah_.”

  
“What’s that again, baby? A little louder now.”

  
“I understand.” Kennedy gritted out through clenched teeth.

  
“Good,” Negan replied, cupping his jaw firmly. “Who are you?”

  
Kennedy’s breaths were shaky as he replied, “Negan. I’m Negan.”

  
“Good,” Negan repeated, and then pressed a searing kiss to Kennedy’s lips. “One more?”

  
Kennedy couldn’t tell if the feeling that tightened his chest was pain or hopelessness. “I love you, Negan.”

  
At that he smiled and slipped out of the room. “Take him to Carson 2.0, I don’t want him dying on me.”

  
“Yes, sir,” Dwight replied.

  
Tom followed Negan out and slammed the door shut behind him.

  
“Shit,” Dwight muttered once the door had closed. “Kenny, I’m so sorry.”

  
Kennedy pressed his right hand to his wounded shoulder shakily. “Just give me a second.”

  
“I’ll take you to the doc-“

  
“ _No_! I just-I just... I need...” Kennedy’s body began to wrack with sobs. It was more of hyperventilation than crying but in the moment the two seemed very similar. “I need a minute,” He finished. “I need a minute.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...  
>  sorry?  
> I hope y'all enjoyed this chapter, the next one will be a bit shorter but it'll deal with a lot of the fall out from what happened in this one.  
> ANNOUNCEMENT?!?!  
> I have signed up for the AFTG Big Bang!!! For those of you who dont know it is a fic writing challenge based around one of my favorite book series(All For The Game by Nora Sakavic). The fic itself wont be released until August (I think, I havent checked the dates in awhile) but it should be fun! I'll even be collaborating with an artist for it! Yay!!! I'll probably mention it when it comes out if you are interested.  
> Kudos save my soul and comments help me ascend to heaven.


	7. The Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lack of food and supplies cause dilemmas for Kennedy. Three months later he sets to work at correcting the aftermath of Negan's outburst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!!  
>  Finished this right at the end of the deadline I set for myself!  
> So this one is a bit of a bummer which I think is to be expected but I thought I'd warn Y'all anyway. I'm also not too sure about how good it is, I've kind of been struggling with this one so it's... iffy.  
> I found it a bit difficult to find motivation for writing this chapter but I got it done thanks to all of you who left kudos or comments, they really help motivate me.  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy the seventh chapter!  
> TW for quite a bit of blood, gore, animal death, and vomit. Yikes.

 

 

THREE MONTHS BEFORE

 

Kennedy slumped against the dark kitchen island, exhausted. He’d barely walked a mile but he was already too tired to go on.

  
His leg was infected, he was sure of that now. It was swollen and tender, the bruising around it had darkened and yellowed around the edges, and occasionally Kennedy would find a strange fluid leaking from his stitches. He didn’t know what to do about it. His father’s lessons in first aid had covered how to prevent infection but not how to treat it.

  
His hand seemed to be healing fine (thank god) but it was still hard to work around.

  
Shakily, Kennedy limped to one of the drawers and tugged it open.

  
_Nothing._

  
Then to the next.

  
_Nada._

  
The next.

  
_Nope._

  
And the next.

  
_Jackpot._

  
Hurriedly, Kennedy unpackaged a too tiny granola bar and practically inhaled it. It tasted a bit strange but it was the first food item he’d had in days and he was pretty sure it was just the infection fucking with his taste buds.

  
His stomach protested suddenly at the feeling of food after days of nothing but Kennedy chugged a bottle of water in an attempt to keep the granola bar down.

  
He’d found what he had been looking for, for the most part, but he decided to look through the rest of the house anyway. It took forever due to his slowed pace but he eventually finished and came back with a haul of three water bottles, a bottle of ibuprofen with only two pills in it, and a can of sardines.

  
Kennedy immediately bagged the water and the downed the pills but he just stared at the sardines, face contorting in disgust.

  
When he’d been eight years old he tried sardines for the first time and had then gotten food poisoning for the first time. Kennedy liked to think that if it came down to it he could eat them to survive... but the mere sight made his stomach roll.

  
Kennedy downed another water bottle and shoved the fish in his bag.

 

 

THREE MONTHS LATER

 

 

“Who the fuck are you?” Kennedy asked as he entered the infirmary, voice and breathing slow and labored.

  
The short man who sat at Dr. Carson’s desk looked up carefully and narrowed his eyes at Kennedy. “I’m Dr. Carson,” he said. “How can I help you?”

  
Kennedy turned to Dwight, his shoulder twinged in pain at the moment. “Am I seeing things?”

  
“My brother, Emmett,” Dr. Carson replied. “is dead. I’m Harlan Carson, I’m also a doctor. You seem to be bleeding there, what happened?”

  
“What happened to Dr. Carson?” Kennedy asked Dwight.

"We figured out that he was the one to help Sherry escape," Dwight replied.

  
Kennedy frowned at that. He’d never even seen them interact, he doubted that Dr.Carson was somehow involved in her escape.

  
“Why don’t you come sit down.” Dr. Carson gestured at the exam table.

  
Kennedy obediently went to the table, though Dwight had to help him onto it because Kennedy couldn’t lift himself up.

  
Dr. Carson slid on a pair of gloves and carefully removed Kennedy hand from the wound. “Looks like a stab wound.”

  
“ _Yeah_ , no shit.”

  
“It’s not too deep, I don’t think it tore any of your cuff muscles but I can’t be sure... can you lift your arm for me?”

  
Kennedy tried and failed miserably.

  
“Yeah, the blade may have nicked your muscles in your shoulder. I’ll stitch the wound up and give you some painkillers for it.”

  
Dr. Carson retreated to one of the shelves, likely to search for sutures. “What’s your name?” He asked, tugging a drawer open and then slamming it shut when he didn’t find what he was looking for.

  
“Kennedy.”

  
“Like the president?”

  
Kennedy rolled his eyes. “ _Yeah_ , like the president.”

  
“Well, Kennedy, can you take that shirt off yourself or do you need me to cut it off?”

  
Kennedy hated the thought of removing his clothes in front of Dr. Carson and Dwight but he obediently wrestled his top off and discarded the bloody shirt on the floor.

  
Dr. Carson returned with a threaded needle and a bottle of hydrogen peroxide.

  
Kennedy sighed and let his brain go fuzzy as Dr. Carson got to work on stitching his shoulder back together. It was a shockingly familiar feeling and Kennedy couldn’t help but think of when he’d been shot and he’d had to stitch himself up on his own. That had gone well.

  
“How’d this happen?” Dr. Carson asked once he’d finish bandaging the stitched wound.

  
“Marital dispute,” Kennedy replied, drowsily.

  
At that Dr. Carson’s brown brows rose but he didn’t push it further. “You’re all set.”

  
Kennedy nodded, the movement prompting a headache to form.

  
Dr. Carson returned to his desk and scanned his eyes over a file. “You were shot?” He asked.

  
Kennedy frowned in response.

  
“How did you know that?” Dwight asked.

  
“My brother kept files on all of his patients.”

  
Kennedy thought that was a bit odd but he didn’t press it. “Yeah, I was shot.”

  
“And you received a fracture to your middle metacarpal bone?” Dr. Carson stepped forward and grabbed Kennedy’s hand feeling for the bones under the skin. “How’re those healing now?”

  
Kennedy tugged his hand from Carson’s grip and pushed off the table, wincing as he felt the impact in his shoulder. “ _They’re fine_.” He grabbed his ruined shirt up off from the floor and carefully slipped it back on.

  
“You sure? There’s no stiffness in your leg muscles? No pain in your hand when you grab things or when you make a fist.”

  
“No.” Kennedy tried to push past him but Carson stopped him with a careful hand on his injured shoulder.

 

“You look really familiar to me. Have we met?”

  
Kennedy frowned at the doctor and shook his head.

  
“You know... you kind of look like an old patient of mine... what did you say your last name was?”

  
“I didn’t,” Kennedy said.

  
“Let’s go,” Dwight said, eyes narrowed at the doctor. “I’ll take you to your room, you could use the rest.” Dwight continued to lead Kennedy towards the door.

  
“Wait,” Dr. Carson called out, handing Dwight a bottle of pills. “Give him one every four hours for the pain.”

  
Kennedy took the bottle from Dwight and read the label out loud, “ _Fentanyl_ ,” He said. “You think a narcotic is really necessary?”

  
“I personally would’ve saved them but my brother's file has you listed as an important patient. I thought Negan might appreciate my generosity.”

  
Kennedy wondered when Dr. Carson first wrote that note, when he was taken in or after he and Negan married.

  
Without another word Dwight lead them out of the room.

  
But even as they slowly made their way down the halls Kennedy couldn’t help but think of what Carson said.

  
_You know... you kind of look like an old patient of mine..._

 

 

“You know I can get to my room on my own,” Kennedy pointed out.

  
“I know,” Dwight replied.

  
“I don’t need a babysitter.”

  
“I know.”

  
Kennedy sighed and attempted rolling his shoulder, he’d taken the pills Dr. Carson had given him and they certainly dulled the pain but it was still there.

  
“Listen... I don’t know what was going on between you and Sherry-“

  
“Oh _fuck off_ -“ Kennedy stopped in his tracks and turned to face Dwight. “You aren’t stupid enough to think I was fucking your wife.”

  
“I’m not saying you two were fucking, I’m just saying that I know she cared for you and-“

  
“I’m fucking _gay_ , Dwight.”

  
“ _I know_!”

  
Kennedy raised his eyebrows. “Then what’s with all this ‘ _between you and Sherry_ ’ shit that’s been going around?”

  
Dwight sighed and rubbed his temples. “I think she felt bad for you, I think that she had some sort of misguided affection for you, and I think that she’d be pissed if she figured out I just stood around and watched as Negan fucking stabbed you.”

  
“I don’t want your pity-“

  
“It’s not _pity_... it’s guilt,” Dwight looked to the ground.

  
“Fine, you're forgiven, now fuck off.” With that Kennedy set off down the hallway. Dwight didn’t follow.

 

 

THREE MONTHS BEFORE

 

 

It had been common in the past couple of days for Kennedy to sleep in. Every time he woke up it felt like it was an hour later than when he woke up the day before. He wasn’t complaining, he needed the rest, but he couldn’t help but feel lazy despite himself.

  
When Kennedy finally did wake up he felt like he was pulling himself out of quicksand even though he truly didn’t have the energy to do so. He was infinitely grateful that he hadn’t come across any walkers in the previous few days because he was sure he wouldn’t be able to fight them off in his condition.

  
The ibuprofen he’d taken the night before had helped with the pain for awhile but had long since worn off. It was with a sigh of exhaustion that Kennedy realized he was still continuously getting worse. His entire body ached like it had when he’d gotten pneumonia when he was fifteen, his long hair stuck to his neck with sweat, his head pounded with his heartbeat and so did his leg.

  
Kennedy carefully pushed himself into a sitting position on the couch. With the movement came a wave of nausea and Kennedy doubled over the side of the couch and threw up the little remained of the granola bar he’d eaten the night before.

  
He deliriously spat onto the carpet in an attempt to remove the taste from his mouth and then stood from the couch, putting all of his effort into staying upright.

  
Kennedy grabbed his bag and headed for the kitchen to give it another search even though he’d searched it thoroughly.

  
His stomach was a melting pot of intense hunger and extreme nausea. Kennedy knew that he’d likely throw up anything he found anyway but he couldn’t help his hunger.

  
It was then that he remembered the can of sardines.

 

 

THREE MONTHS LATER

 

 

When Kennedy woke from his nap it was dark outside. Though he wasn’t one to try and keep track of time Kennedy thought that it was past midnight.

  
His shoulder screamed in protest as Kennedy tried to push himself out of bed. Every movement pulled on his stitches and Kennedy was not in the mood to see Dr. Carson again.

  
Once he was standing he carefully removed his ruined white shirt and replaced it with a grey button up.

  
As he put his new shirt on he accidentally caught sight of his wound around his dressings in the mirror. Carson had done a fairly good job at stitching him up and the wound itself was fairly small as the butterfly knifes blade was fairly thin but the bruising around it was dark and imposing looking.

  
Kennedy frowned at the wound and continued dressing.

  
He’d have to apologize to Negan, that was the only way things could go back to how they’d been.

  
 _Do you really want things to go back?_ A voice in the back of his head asked. _He’s clearly completely insane._

  
Kennedy ignored that logic and headed for the door, pulling it open with his good arm.

  
It was then that he caught sight of a shoulder right outside his door.

  
“Marco?” Kennedy asked, his voice sounding strained and sleepy in his ears.

  
Marco spun around at the sound of his name. “Oh, you’re up.”

  
“ _Yeah_... What are you doing here?”

  
“I’m your... guard,” Marco replied. “...no one told you?”

  
“Told me what?”

  
Marco sighed looking sympathetic. “You’re under house arrest, kiddo.”

  
Kennedy blinked. “I’m... I’m _what_?”

  
“With, ah, what happened Negan has ordered us to keep an eye on you, to make sure you’re either in your room or his at all times.”

  
Kennedy floundered for a minute.

  
He’d never been punished like this by Negan, but then again he’d never betrayed his trust before.

  
“This is ridiculous,” Kennedy started. “Let me talk to him.”

  
“I can’t,” Marco said, looking increasingly uncomfortable.

  
“Why not?”

  
“He’s- He’s not alone right now, Ken.”

  
It hadn’t been like Negan was monogamous to Kenny so the words shouldn’t have been a surprise.

  
“Who?”

  
Marco sighed. “Norah.”

 

 

THREE MONTHS BEFORE

 

 

It took a few minutes of contemplation before Kennedy could even manage to take the sardines out of his pack.

  
The mere thought of eating them made him nauseous all over again.

  
Carefully, Kennedy opened the can.

  
The sight of the oily fish alone was enough to make him gag but he needed some sort of nutrition or he was going to pass out on his way out of the house.

  
With a steadying breath, Kennedy lifted the fish by the tail and placed it on his tongue. He recoiled instantly, his stomach roiling as the sardine slid down his throat. Kennedy pressed his good hand to his mouth in an attempt to steady himself but his stomach ultimately rejected the food and he emptied its contents onto the floor. His stomach continued to roil even after he’d finish throwing up so he spent a solid three minutes dry heaving. When he finished Kennedy spit in an attempt to remove the acrid taste from his mouth and pushed off the floor.

  
His stomach actually ached with emptiness.

Kennedy cursed profusely. 

 

THREE MONTHS LATER

 

 

Boredom swiftly took over after a few hours in isolation.

  
Because Kennedy spent most of his time drunk he didn’t have any books to read and he hadn’t bothered asking for a tv knowing that he’d likely only be able to watch the crappy VHS recordings that Negan’s scouts found.

  
It also didn’t take long for a hangover to set in. Then, shortly after that Kennedy began to itch for a cigarette.

  
 _Great_ , he thought.

  
“ _Marco_?” He called from his bed.

  
“Yeah?” His voice was muffled through the door.

  
“Can you take me out for a smoke and some booze? Please? I’ll be speedy.”

  
“My orders were to make sure you stay here or in Negan’s room at all times.”

  
Kennedy sighed and massaged his aching temples. “ _Please._ ” He repeated, there was an air of desperation in his voice.

  
“Sorry, Ken.”

  
Kennedy ground his teeth and pushed off the bed, beginning to pace the room.

  
He hated this.

 

 

THREE MONTHS BEFORE

 

 

Kennedy passed out, just as he’d thought he would. Though he wasn’t sure if it was due to his infection, starvation, or just plain exhaustion. When the feeling came he didn’t fight it, he was too tired to. He just let himself slip into darkness not knowing or really caring if he came back.

  
But, of course, he did. When he woke up again it was bright outside.

  
 _Morning_ , he realized. He’d been out for hours.

  
Kennedy felt even worse now, hotter, more sluggish.

  
He carefully peeled himself off the sidewalk, checking his limbs for bites and miraculously finding himself clean. Probably, he thought, because he smelled liked death.

  
He was right in front of an old gas station, the paint on its exterior was faded and peeling. Several signs hung from the pumps proclaiming them empty though the empty cars that were parked around them seemed to believe otherwise.

  
Briefly, Kennedy considered trying to hotwire one of them but he quickly brushed that idea off, the tanks were probably empty and he didn’t even know where he wanted to go anyway. Instead, he limped for the gas station, hoping to find some food or a cot hidden away somewhere.

The door rang when he pushed it open the tiny bell alerting a walker to his presence.

  
The walker growled at him as it crawled out from behind one of the tipped over shelves, it’s legs dragging behind it uselessly.

  
Kennedy carefully opened his butterfly knife and unsteadily made for the walker. As he neared it reached out to him with a snarl, it’s pale eyes seeming to see right through him.

  
For once Kennedy actually found himself struck with a deep feeling of fear at the sight of the walker. Not adrenaline or a start but genuine fear. It wasn’t the walker itself or the idea of getting bit but the simple thought of turning.

  
 _If I die,_ he thought. _Nobody will be there to put me down. Nobody will care if they do_.

  
For some reason, this thought terrified him.

  
The walker snarled once again, bringing Kennedy back to himself.

  
Without further delay, he drove the butterfly knife into its soft skull.

  
It felt... odd. For once he was actually afraid to die.

 

 

THREE MONTHS LATER

 

 

When Kennedy was finally given the okay to go back into Negan’s room it was empty of all life which Kennedy was grateful for.

  
The light from the tall wall of windows assaulted his sensitive eyes and Kennedy made a b line for the bar.

  
He’d made it through a courter of a bottle of whiskey when he saw it: his butterfly knife.

  
The sight of it alone made him freeze.

  
It was right where he’d left it after he’d pulled it out, apparently, nobody had thought to pick it up from the floor. Slowly Kennedy made his way to the knife. Once he reached it he picked it up between his thumb and forefinger, examining the thin blade. It was covered in his dried blood and it looked a bit sticky with it but for the most part it was the same.

  
 _Of_ course _it’s the same_ , he thought. _It’s a fucking knife._

  
Wiping it off as best he could on he jeans, Kennedy tucked the blade back into his pocket and headed back to the bar to finish his drink.

 

 

By the time Negan returned to his room the sun had long since set and Kennedy was properly drunk.

  
“Hey!” Kennedy said sloppily when he heard the door open. He spun on his bar stool to see who it was and then frowned when he saw it was Negan.

  
“Hey there,” Negan replied cautiously from the door. “How’re you doin’?”

  
Kennedy laughed but there wasn’t much humor in it. “Like you care.”

  
It wasn’t something he would’ve said if he was sober, hell, it wasn’t even something he would’ve said if he was tipsy but Kennedy had long since crossed the line from tipsy to sloppy drunk and there wasn’t any going back anytime soon.

  
“You’re upset,” Negan observed.

  
“House arrest?” Kennedy slurred. “You put me on fucking _house arrest_?”

  
Negan shrugged and made his way to the seat next to him. “You forced my hand.”

  
“I didn’t force you to fucking stab me.” The words made their way out before Kennedy’s sensible side could stop them.

  
“I have a reputation to uphold here, Ken.”

  
“Yeah, the reputation of an asshole.” Once again it just slipped out.

  
Negan laughed breathily. “You really are out of it aren’t you?”

  
“Do you want me to be afraid of you? Is that it? Well then, mission _fucking_ accomplished.” Kennedy said, his voice straining around the words. “I did everything you asked of me, _everything_.”

  
“I told you the rules when you agreed to marry me in the first place and yet you still disobeyed me. You chose that. I don’t want you to be afraid of me, Ken, I just want you to understand that the shit you pulled isn’t allowed.” Negan reaches forward to try and cup Kennedy’s face but he pushed him away sharply.

  
It was stupid and in Negan’s book, it was as good as hitting him.

  
Seeing the anger that had started to take form in Negan, Kennedy swiftly started to speak again but he’d long since lost the control he needed over his words to make what was going down any better. “Yeah, it’s so horrible what I did, so _bad_. I tried to _help_ someone. Someone who wanted out. I- I helped her... I did.”

  
“Her ex is dead,” Negan pointed out. “And she is being kept under watch now, do you really think you _helped_ anyone?”

 

  
“ _Do you_?” Kennedy countered.

  
There was a long pause then Negan chuckled quietly. “You’re drunk.”

  
“I’m fine.”

  
“ _Marco_!” Negan called. “Take Kennedy back to his room.”

  
Marco opened the door and peaked in cautiously.

  
“ _No_ ,” Kennedy said.

  
“Do you want me to make Marco carry you back?”

  
“...no.”

  
“Get out.” Then to Marco: “Make sure he’s had plenty of water before he goes to bed.”

  
Kennedy, as drunk as he was, knew better than to disobey that order but made sure to grab a full bottle of wine on his way out.

 

 

THREE MONTHS BEFORE

 

 

The store was frustratingly bare. All food, medical supplies, and water bottles had long since been picked clean. The only items left on the shelf were dead mice that had been caught in traps and wrappers from long since eaten candy bars.

  
When another dizzy spell threatened to take him out Kennedy wandered to what must’ve once been an old break room and collapsed into a chair station around a collapsible table.

  
Kennedy cradled his head in his hand as the room spun.

  
 _If I just had something to eat_ , he thought. _This would all be better if I had something to eat._

  
Logically he knew that wasn’t true, he had a bad infection and he needed rest and antibiotics before food, despite what his aching stomach would have him believe. Food was a comfort at the moment, not a necessity. Or at least that was what he thought. But surely enough as time passed his dizziness only worsened.

  
When he looked his pack and the gas station shelves still lacked any food.

  
The room swayed and Kennedy steadied himself with a hand to one of the shelves. The cool metal bit into his palm, grounding him a bit but not enough. Nausea rolled over him again and for the second time that day he found himself dry heaving onto the tile. His stomach lurched painfully as his body tried to eject food he hadn’t eaten. Water gathered at his eyes as he wrapped an arm around his middle. When his stomach finally calmed down again Kennedy realized he was on the floor.

  
Too exhausted to get up and too lost to even try; he just sat there on the grimy floor wiping the sweat from his forehead with the heel of his good hand.

  
Exhaustion swept over him and suddenly his eyelids felt too heavy to keep open. They slid shut slowly and Kennedy could actually feel himself losing consciousness.

  
 _Kenny._ A voice broke through his exhaustion. _Hey, Kenny! Wake up, sleepy head. Hey, Kenny! Wake up it’s-_

  
Kennedy jerked awake with a gasp. The light leaking through the window was fading but it was still too bright. Dizziness returned to him suddenly as he slowly pushed off the floor and limped to the door.

  
But even as he hobbled away from the store the voice stuck with him.

  
_Beth._

  
His hands shook violently at the thought and he fought down a violent sob but it still came out in the form of a ragged gasp.

  
Kennedy had spent most of his teen years struggling with the fact of his existence. He, unlike his father, had never been very religious so his suicidal tendencies had never been an attempt at finding paradise but instead; absolution. He hadn’t wanted heaven he’d wanted to not have to worry about seeing his father’s disappointed face every time he’d closed his eyes, he’d wanted for his younger sister to be able to look him in the eyes again, he’d wanted his stepbrother to stop acting like his bodyguard and start acting more like his brother. He’d wanted out of his situation and he’d gotten out, but not in the way he’d wanted or intended. He’d never wanted to outlive his baby sister.

  
Kennedy swiped at his sweaty, tear-streaked cheek.

  
He’d spent years struggling with the fact of his existence but he didn’t want to die like this.

  
His thoughts were interrupted by a ruckus to his left.

  
Kennedy spun his head to scan the tree line but saw nothing... until he did.

  
It was limping, much like he was, one of its hind legs had been caught in a hefty bear trap and cut clean off. It breathed heavily through its mouth, it too was dying.

  
Kennedy straightened carefully, as to not disturb it.

  
But the deer was too busy collapsing onto its side with a cry.

  
An icy sort of anticipation itched it’s way up Kenny’s insides, the kind of anticipation that came when you were a bit afraid.

  
He knew what he had to do.

 

 

THREE MONTHS LATER

 

 

The windows in his room were painted shut. Kennedy didn’t know how he hadn’t noticed before but surely enough when he got desperate enough for a smoke that he decided to try to open them they wouldn’t budge. He’d briefly considered using his recently rediscovered butterfly knife to try to cut away the paint and jimmy it open but he then decided the brief release of nicotine wouldn’t justify the possible ruining of his favorite knife.

  
Kennedy had sobered up a bit, just enough to realize that what he’d done was monumentally idiotic and that he needed to figure out how to apologize to Negan, and by the next morning he’d figured out the perfect way; publicly. He hated the idea of it, it was humiliating and Kennedy would likely never live it down but he was going crazy locked up inside his room, he needed to loosen the leash Negan had on him.

  
It was midday when he heard a new guard take the last’s spot.

  
With a steadying breath, Kennedy put on a pout and flung open his door.

  
The new guard (who Kennedy didn’t recognize) looked down at him with wide eyes, clearly not expecting to meet him.

  
“ _Marcoooo_...” Kennedy singsonged, then stopped, frowning at the guard. “You... aren’t Marco.”

  
“Joseph,” the guard explained. “Marco got off a couple of hours ago.”

  
“I need to- I neeeed to talk to Negan.” The upside to being drunk most of the time was that people didn’t tend to question when you were pretending to be drunk. “I just- I need to apologize. I miss him so much, _pleeease_ , please take me to him.”

  
Joseph looked around the hall, likely looking for help but finding none. “I was just told to keep you in your room-“

  
“You’ll be with me the whole time and-and if Negan doesn’t like it you can tell him- you can blame it on me.”

  
Once again Joseph looked down the hall, though this time it seemed more to check for other Saviors. “Hang on.” He pulled his walkie from his belt and lifted the speaker to his mouth. “Lookin’ for Negan’s current location, I’ve got some...supplies that I need to deliver.”

  
There was a long pause and then a staticky reply; “The Warehouse.”

  
“Thanks,” Joseph replied, then to Kennedy: “Be quick.”

  
For a minute Kennedy actually thought that Joseph would let him go alone but of course, when he started down the hall he trailed closely behind.

  
Kennedy didn’t like smoking indoors, with the single exception of the stairwell, but he was so desperate for a cigarette that he found himself lighting one as he made his way through the halls.

  
Workers and guards alike stared openly at him as he weaved around them. He didn’t know why it surprised him, Negan had said he wanted to use him as an example after all.

The feeling of their stares burned holes into his skull. All looked at him with either blatant disgust at his betrayal or vague amusement at his predicament. Kennedy tried to meet the unwelcoming stares with one of his own.

  
When they finally reached the Warehouse it was abuzz with movement. Something was being planned though Kennedy didn’t know or care what it was. He was there for a reason.

  
He caught sight of Negan instantly, he was loud and authoritarian, his leather jacket stood out in the sea of cotton.

  
As Kennedy neared him the stares began to feel sharper somehow, more judgmental. He flicked his cigarette to the side, not wanting him to see it.

  
When Negan finally caught sight of him he was in the middle of an only slightly encouraging speech that involved a lot of crude metaphors. “Kenny,” He said slowly when he finished. “I gave orders that you were to be kept in your room.” This was directed at Joseph who just looked away nervously.

  
“Can we talk?” Kennedy asked, trying to sound shy and meek,

  
“I’m a bit busy now, baby. But you can reschedule with my secretary.” He spun around, likely to move on but Kennedy stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

  
“I’m sorry.”

  
The crowd around them tried to pretend like they weren’t listening but Kennedy could feel their attention on him.

  
Negan laughed breathily and spun back to look at Kenny. “ _Is that so_?”

  
“I am, that shit with Norah...it was stupid and I shouldn’t have done it. I was-I was jealous of her, I knew you’d call her in at some point and when she came to me about leaving I saw it as a chance to get rid of her. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have disobeyed you and-“ Kennedy swallowed his pride. “I love you, Negan.”

  
A murmur went over the crowd; half amused chuckles and half groans of disapproval. If Negan hadn’t have been standing right there Kennedy was sure someone would’ve whistled.

  
Negan’s face was a mask of stoicism. “Well... if that isn’t the sweetest shit I’ve ever heard.”

  
Kennedy held in his sigh of relief.

  
“I mean damn, Ken. I am flattered, _truly_ , to the core.”

  
“All that shit I said the other night... I was drunk and upset about hearing about you and Norah.”

  
“No, it’s fine,” Negan grinned. “I get it.”

  
“I just want things to go back to the way they were.”

  
“I can see about making that happen.” Negan closed some of the distance between them and thumbed a strand of Kennedy’s hair. “How about we get together tonight, huh? Tommy boy got us a nice bottle of champagne while out on a run yesterday.”

  
Over Negan’s shoulder Kennedy caught a glimpse of Tom’s weathered face.

  
“That’s great,” said Kennedy. “I’ll see you then.”

  
He took a step back but Negan continuing stopped him. “I can’t take that house arrest off you quite yet, though.”

  
Kennedy’s heart sunk.

  
“You get it.”

  
“Oh come on,” Kennedy said teasingly. “Just between our room and the Lounge?” He pouted his lips. “ _Please_?”

  
Negan chuckled. “And to the loading dock so you can smoke?”

  
Kennedy just smiled.

  
“Fine,” Negan said with a sigh. “But I’m not taking back the security detail.”

  
“Thank you,” Kennedy said, turning away with one last wink before heading up the stairs to the catwalk.

  
Humiliation set in right next to the feeling of accomplishment that settled in his chest.

 

 

THREE MONTHS BEFORE

 

 

Kennedy smeared blood away from his mouth onto his cheek, the pungent smell assaulting his nose. His stomach ached at the feeling of being full again but Kennedy made sure to down large gulps of water in-between each bite of the deer's leg so he wouldn’t throw it up. He wouldn’t tolerate forcing the putrid raw flesh down his throat just to have it come back up again.

  
The poor deer hadn’t been hard to take down, it was already injured when he went up to it so there wasn’t much of a struggle when he buried his butterfly knife in the base of its skull.

  
His stomach ached and rumbled as it tried to adjust to the feeling of actually having food in it again.

  
Kennedy didn’t let himself feel bad about, didn’t let himself second guess the split-second decision.

  
 _It didn’t matter._ He told himself. _It didn’t._

 

 

THREE MONTHS LATER

 

 

The small freedom of being able to roam the halls of the Sanctuary somewhat freely may not have seemed like much to anyone else but to Kennedy it was his whole world being given back to him. The Lounge, Negan’s room, and the loading docks had been his life the past three months of being at the Sanctuary and now that they’d been given back to him everything felt as though it was going back to normal. Except for the stab wound in his shoulder and the guards trailing him twenty-four-seven.

  
At first, when he woke up the day after his talk with Negan, Kennedy considered spending his day drinking alone in Negan’s room, but that dream was quickly squashed by Marco informing him that Tom would be guarding him. The memory of their last drunken encounter was still fresh in his mind and Kennedy was not game for a repeat and thought it best if they weren’t alone together. It was for that reason that he found himself heading (reluctantly) to the Lounge.

  
When he reached the room there was an air of hostility around each of the girls. Including, he noted, Norah.

  
Kennedy made straight for the bar, Tom stationing himself awkwardly in the doorway.

  
The conversation had died with Kennedy’s presence so the only sound in the room was the sound of him pouring himself a drink.

  
Norah pulled out the bar stool next to him and took a seat. “I heard about your little speech with Negan yesterday.”

  
All guilt that he had felt about the death of Mike and the whole slap incident had been washed away by the pain in his shoulder and the feeling of Tom’s judgmental gaze on him.

  
“Fuck off.” He thought the words articulated his feelings exactly.

  
Behind him, he heard Tom reporting this development to Negan.

  
“I also heard about your shoulder.” There was an air of regret in her voice.

  
“ _Fuck off_ ,” Kennedy repeated.

  
“I’m still... I’m trying to decide whether or not I hate you or not.”

  
“I’ll decide for you: fuck off.”

  
Norah rolled her eyes. “Sorry if I’m ruining the perfect lie you told to Negan yesterday, I just don’t want things to end between the two of us like they did.”

  
Kennedy felt a firm grip on his left shoulder and he stiffened.

  
“Well, well, well,” Negan drawled. “What is going on here?”

  
Norah’s eyes widened but to her credit she said nothing.

  
“I was just mindin’ my own business, goin’ about my day when good old Tommy boy back here called me up to tell me that my two favorite spouses were arguing. Now, what is that about?”

  
“Nothing,” Kennedy answered. “Norah was just leaving.”

  
Norah glared at him venomously but did as he said, slipping out of his seat for Negan to take.

  
Once she’d returned to the couch Negan put his lips to Kennedy’s ear. “That’s not okay, Kenny,” he murmured.

  
“I know,” Kennedy whispered back, turning to face him. “I know, I told her to leave.”

  
“I know you did but that doesn’t make it alright in my book.”

  
Kennedy sighed and rubbed his temples. “ _I’m sorry_.”

  
Negan just hummed.

  
“What do you need me to do to prove it? To prove that I’m with you?”

  
Negan hummed once more and leaned back against the bar. He seemingly thought about it for a minute then smiled. “I’ve got a newbie, a scientist that’s gonna help us keep this place squeaky in the ways of the apocalypse.”

  
“... okay..?”

  
“He’s a bit... well he’s a cowardly piece of shit and I’m pretty sure he shits himself whenever he sees me.”

  
“I’m still not getting it,” Kennedy said, eyebrows furrowed.

  
“I want him to feel comfortable here, because of that I sent him a welcome gift, a couple of the girls.”

  
Kennedy frowned.

  
“But between you and me I think he might swing more towards your way if you know what I mean.”

  
Something in Kennedy’s gut sunk as realization set him. “You’re... _pimping_ me out to him?”

  
Negan laughed uproariously. “Oh don’t be dramatic.”

  
“Dramatic? You are... you’re sending me to him so he can ‘feel comfortable’, what do you want me to do? Suck his dick? Spread my legs and let him do whatever the fuck he wants?”

  
“Calm down.” It was a command, there was no room for argument after he said those words.

  
Kennedy downed the rest of his drink.

  
“No sex, no flirting. You know the rules, you don’t have to do anything that you don’t want to do and that shit wasn’t even on the table by the way,” Negan whispered. “I’m just... go to his room later this evening, stay for an hour at the most. Indulge him. Talk about his work with the Human Genome project or some shit, I don’t care, just entertain him.”

  
Part of Kennedy wanted to continue to argue with him but the smarter part won out. “Fine,” He said. “Where’s his room?”

 

 

Doctor Eugene Porter’s room was in the “ritzier” part of the Sanctuary, the area where Negan’s most trusted people set up camp. Though each room was pretty much the same and usually only contained the bare necessities they were considered luxurious in the world they lived in.

  
Kennedy knocked reluctantly on the doctor’s door.

  
There was a bit of shuffling from inside the room and then the door slowly swung open to reveal a bored looking man with a mullet.

  
“Hi there,” Kennedy greeted. “You’re Dr. Porter?”

  
Eugene raked his eyes up and down Kennedy suspiciously. “I am.” His accent was immediately noticeable.

  
“I’m Kennedy, Negan’s husband. He sent me here to spend some time with you. Thought you might enjoy the company.”

  
Eugene looked him up and down once more.

  
Kennedy shifted uncomfortably on his feet.

  
“He assumes I’m homosexual.” It wasn’t quite a question.

  
“ _Yeah_...” Kennedy replied hesitantly.

  
“I’m not.”

  
“Alright.”

  
“I’m really not.”

  
“I believe you.” Kennedy looked down the hall then peaked into the doctor’s room. “Should I leave?”

  
Eugene paused. “I... do not see why you can’t come in for awhile, I’ve got Yar’s.”

  
“I have no idea what that means,” Kennedy said.

  
“Yar’s Revenge on the Atari. You play as Yar who’s-“

  
“I get it,” Kennedy interrupted, sensing he was about to start a lecture.

  
Eugene opened the door so Kennedy could slip in.

  
His room was a little smaller than Kennedy’s but it had more in it; a TV set, a kitchenette, and what looked to be a sound system on top of the dresser.

  
“From where do you originate?” Eugene asked awkwardly.

  
“Sorry?”

  
“You have an accent, from where do you originate?”

  
“You could just say ‘you have an accent’.”

  
“Yes,” said Eugene. “But that is a statement, not a question, and I fully intend to ask a question.”

  
“‘Where are you from?’ Would’ve worked too.” Kennedy took a seat on the edge of the bed.

  
“Alright then, where are you from?” The words sound stunted and odd when he said them as if he was having difficulty getting them out.

  
“Georgia,” Kennedy replied, allowing his accent to take over his voice a bit more than usual.

  
His accent wasn’t quite as strong as his father’s or Rick’s but it was still there at the back of every word.

  
“Interesting,” commented Eugene.

  
“Is it?”

  
“I passed through Georgia on my way here.”

  
“Where are you from?”

  
“Texas.”

  
Kennedy’s eyes widened. “You came here all the way from Texas?”

  
“Not on my own,” Eugene admitted, though he didn’t elaborate. “Is that wine?”

  
“Yeah.” Kennedy eyed the dark bottle. “I found it at the bar in the Lounge, it might be good. Want some?”

  
Eugene looked around the room. “I don’t have any wine glasses.”

  
Kennedy laughed flatly. “We’re not that fancy.” He pushed off the couch and headed for the kitchenette, ruffling through cupboards until he found two clean glasses.

  
Eugene hadn’t moved from his spot at the door. Kennedy didn’t wait for him, he carefully poured himself a glass of wine and plopped back onto the bed.

  
“I am not a hundred percent sure what I’m supposed to do in this situation,” Eugene admitted.

  
Kennedy shrugged. “Negan said you hung out with some of the girls, we can do whatever you did with them.”

  
“They mostly sat around and watched me play video games.”

  
Relief flooded through him. “That’s fine,” Kennedy sighed.

  
Eugene took up the place that Kennedy had seemingly pulled him away from and started playing Yar’s Revenge again.

  
The more he drank the more interesting the game got. And by his third glass Eugene actually went so far as to try to teach him how to play.

  
“And press that right there to shoot.”

  
“Here?” Kennedy asked, thumbing the red button.

  
“Correct,” answered Eugene.

  
They were interrupted by a knock at the door.

  
Kennedy obediently pressed the red button and Eugene got up to answer the door.

  
“Yes?” Kennedy heard Eugene say once the door was open.

  
“Is Kennedy here?” The gruff voice was familiar but Kennedy couldn’t quite place it in his drunken state.

  
“He is. Is he needed for something?”

  
The owner of the voice didn’t reply but instead wrestled his way into the room (which wasn’t hard, Eugene didn’t try to keep him out) and stomped over to Kennedy.

  
Once he sensed a presence at his side Kennedy squinted up at Dwight. “Can I help you?” He asked drunkenly.

  
“It’s midnight,” Dwight replied.

  
Kennedy blinked, once and then twice as realization set in. “ _Shit._ ”

  
“Yeah.” Dwight grabbed his arm and hauled him upward. “Come on, Negan was lookin’ for you.”

  
Eugene didn’t do much as say goodbye as Dwight dragged Kennedy out of the room.

  
“He can’t be pissed at me, he sent me to him.” But Kennedy knew Negan could be pissed whenever the hell he wanted.

  
“You can’t just disappear after the shit you pulled, Ken,” Dwight said, still pulling him down the hallways.

  
“I know.”

  
“He’s never going to trust you again if you don’t give him time to get over it before you start fucking off again.”

  
“ _I know_ ,” Kennedy replied through gritted teeth, his annoyance peaking. “Jesus, do you think that I’m stupid? I know this shit is serious. He fucking _stabbed_ me, Dwight.”

  
Dwight sighed and ran his free hand over his scarred face, his pace slowing. “I know, I know. You just- you can’t be losing time like this, Ken. You have to pay attention.”

  
Kennedy sighed. “I know.”

 

 

THREE MONTHS BEFORE

 

 

Everything was worthless.

  
Kennedy felt it in his bones as he stumbled down a pothole-ridden street on his way to nowhere. He felt it as he stumbled over one of the said potholes, sending a fiery pain up his already fiery painful leg. He felt it as his consciousness wavered for the hundredth time.

  
All the fighting, the scavenging, the goddamned deer, all of it was for nothing. Because Kennedy was going to die. He’d known it his entire life but he’d still tricked himself into thinking that he’d make it because he was too afraid of dying alone in a world where that meant turning into a monster.

  
Kennedy tried to dodge another pothole as he came upon it but his blurred vision and skewed depth perception made the attempt have the opposite of the intended effect. He stumbled and then fell.

  
The impact would’ve knocked the breath out of him if it wasn’t for his shallow backpack.

  
He could’ve gotten up but once his head hit the pavement he felt a bone-deep exhaustion fall over him. He was tired of fighting, tired of scavenging, tired of eating whatever he could find. So when the thought of getting up popped into his head he ignored it.

  
The sky was _so blue_ and the sun for once wasn’t unbearable on his skin.

  
Peace and serenity washed over Kennedy as he lay in the middle of the road so when he felt that telltale tilt in the way he saw and felt things that indicated an incoming loss of consciousness he simply closed his eyes and let it wash over him.

 

 

THREE MONTHS LATER

 

 

Dwight closed the door behind him.

  
Negan’s bedroom was deathly quiet save for the tap of Negan’s finger on a whiskey glass.

  
He sat at the bar with his back to Kennedy though he clearly knew he was there. The position was concerning considering the last time Kennedy walked in on Negan sitting like that it ended with him being stabbed.

  
“You were looking for me?” He tried to sound calm and casual but he didn’t quite manage it.

  
“Where were you?” There was an edge to his voice that added a layer of tension to the room.

  
“I was with your doctor,” said Kennedy. “You told me to see him.”

  
Negan spun around and smiled. “I did,” he admitted. “I did, but you were gone for the quite awhile, weren’t you?”

  
Kennedy narrowed his eyes. “I guess... I got a bit tipsy-“

  
“Did he try anything?”

  
Kennedy couldn’t help the snort that escaped him.

  
He may not have been the greatest in a fight but Kennedy was positive that he could at least hold his own against _Eugene_.

  
“I drank, he played video games, and he snuck awkward glances at me. That’s it.”

  
Negan was quiet for a long time, leveling Kenny with a heavy gaze, but after a solid twenty seconds, he burst into laughter. “You’re right, you’re right. The guy wouldn’t know what to do with himself even if you threw yourself at him.”

  
Kennedy tried his best to ignore that comment.

  
“Sorry, Ken. I just... I get stupid when it comes to you, I guess.”

  
He just smiled and shook his head. “Did you seriously think I’d sleep with _Mullet_?”

  
Negan chuckled. “I don’t know... maybe you have a thing for smart guys.”

  
Kennedy grinned devilishly. “You want to know my type? He’s tall, dark hair-“

  
Negan’s smile took up his entire face. “Yeah?”

  
“Wears a leather jacket, strong jawline-“

  
Negan started towards him, closing the distance between them.

  
“Has a bit of an accent, stubble, god I love me some stubble.”

  
“I’m sure you do, baby.” Negan wrapped his arms around Kennedy’s waist.”I’ve missed you.”

  
Kennedy smiled. “I’ve missed you too.”

  
Negan leaned down to press their lips together, his stubbly jaw rubbing against Kennedy’s uncomfortably. Negan cupped Kennedy’s jaw, deepening the kiss. He ran his free hand down Kenny’s side.

  
Then, a loud bang had Negan pulling back.

  
Kennedy blinked his eyes open. “What was that?” He asked.

  
Negan was suddenly serious again. “Gunshots,” he replied.

  
Kennedy frowned.

  
It was dark out and Negan’s men had specific orders not to fire their weapons unless necessary.

  
Another gunshot rang out, closer this time, it was coming from within the building.

  
Negan ran for the coffee table, pulling a gun Kennedy had previously been unaware of our from under it. “Get behind me,” he ordered, stepping in between Kennedy and the door.

  
Surely enough, the gunshots continued, and got closer, and closer until the sound of the shots was replaced by the sound of the door being smashed in.

  
“I’d give it up if I were you,” Negan said, his pistol aimed at the figure in the doorway. “You can pretend you’d get a shot off but I think we both know I’d take you down with me.”

  
The first thing he noticed was the gun, an assault rifle similar to some of the ones they had at the prison. Then he noticed the confident stance of the woman holding the gun. Then he noticed her face.

  
Kennedy’s heart stopped in his chest. “ _Sasha_?” He breathed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I just started watching The Office and I'm not going to lie every time I see Dwight's name now I get super confused.  
> Soooooooo... what did you think?  
> I hope y'all liked it.   
> I just want to take a second to thank everyone who commented or left kudos on the last chapter, I seriously appreciate it. Your encouragement motivates me so much and every single nice comment regarding the fic or Kennedy makes me grin like an idiot.  
> Anyway, thank you for reading.  
> P.S. yes I had to google what cuff muscles were, sue me.  
> Kudos soothe my headache from editing this and comments help me sleep after hours of staring at my stupid computer screen.


	8. Sasha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kennedy wakes up in a strange place. Three months later he struggles to juggle his relationship with Sasha and his relationship with Negan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gah I’m tired.  
> I have no idea how long this one actually is, I just feel like it’s super long because I’ve been writing it forever.  
> Anyway, here’s a chapter for you. Things happen, people talk, and people don’t talk. Hope you enjoy.

 

THREE MONTHS BEFORE

 

Kennedy awoke slowly, head pounding, eyes burning.

  
His mouth felt as though it'd been stuffed with cotton, his right leg was on fire, and his entire body felt three times heavier than normal.

  
It took too long after he managed to pry his eyes open to notice that he didn't know where he was.

  
Groggily, he turned his head and caught sight of his broken hand. It had a cast on it.

  
As common sense seemed to come back to him Kennedy bolted upright despite his body’s protest.

  
A voice came from his left, "Woah, woah, woah, slow down there."

  
Kennedy only caught a peak of grayish hair before the man shoved his head over a trash can, right as he started dry heaving his guts up.

  
Another hand rubbed soft circles into his back and Kennedy reached blindly behind himself to push it away.

  
The unknown man obligingly retreated from him.

  
"You shouldn't move so much," the man sighed. "You're still fighting off a hell of an infection, I've done what I can but you're just making it worse."

  
"I don't-" Kennedy heaved into the trash can. "I don't know you."

  
Kennedy caught sight of the man's legs through watery vision, he wore what looked like a pair of black loafers, _dress_ pants, and a lab coat.

  
"My name is Emmet Carson, I'm a doctor." The man held out a water bottle to him. Kennedy ignored it.

  
"Where am I?" He finally forced his eyes upward to Carson's face.

  
The look that he gave him was a mix of pity, smugness, and contempt that in no way slowed Kennedy's growing thought that he should kill him and escape.

  
"Welcome to the Sanctuary," Carson said, setting the water down on a table to Kennedy's right with a bit more force than necessary.

  
" _Sanctuary_?" Kennedy asked, straightening.

  
"You are now in the domain of the Saviors, you're lucky, they don't save just anyone." Carson retreated to a cabinet on the far side of the room and procured a pill bottle.

  
"’ _Save_ ’? You mean kidnap?"

  
Carson laughed and threw the bottle to him, Kennedy caught it by the grace of God and read the label.

  
"Antibiotics? Why are you giving these to me?" Kennedy asked, brows furrowing.

  
"Because you have an infection," Carson said like Kennedy was being stupid.

  
"I know I have an infection but why are you giving these to me? You don't know me."

  
Carson shrugged. "They told me to save you if you don't get that infection sorted out you'll just get sick again. I barely managed to save your leg last time I’m not sure it would survive the second round with that fever.”

  
"Fine, but why did they tell you to save me? And who's 'they'?"

  
As if on cue as soon as he'd said it the door swung open.

  
“Well, well, well, look who’s finally awake.” At the door stood a tall man with a receding hairline and an impressive mustache. “I was starting to think we were gonna lose you.”

  
“Who the fuck are you?” Kennedy spat.

  
Mustache tsked. “Now, now, that’s no way to treat your saviors.”

  
“‘Saviors’?” Kennedy scoffed. He was getting tired of hearing that word. “What do you want?”

  
Mustache smiled slowly, shaking a finger at Kennedy. “Smart, you’re smart. You know that nothing is free nowadays and that makes you smarter than half the lot we usually bring in. ‘What do I want’? I want to get you out of that disgusting shirt and into something presentable so you can meet the man who’s about to change your life.”

  
Kennedy looked down at his dirty blood stained tee shirt and then back to the man. “And who might that be?”

  
The man smiled widely. “His name is Negan.”

 

THREE MONTHS LATER

 

Kennedy blinked. He had to be imagining things, he had to.

  
“You know this bitch?” Negan asked, he looked amused but there was an air of confusion in his voice.

  
“Sasha?” Kennedy choked out, he sounded close to tears and he felt like it too.

  
Sasha’s face was a mask of pure shock but it disappeared as soon as it had appeared, replaced instead with anger. Her grip on her gun tightened. “We thought you were _dead_.”

  
Kennedy’s heart stopped.

  
_We._

  
“Kennedy,” Negan’s voice broke him out of his stupor, firm, with no room for disobedience.

  
“I knew her,” Kennedy explained. “Before. We were in a group together.”

  
“A _group_?” Negan said it like it was a foreign word.

  
“Get out of the way,” Sasha demanded.

  
Kennedy eyed the gun, suddenly remembering it was there, and then his place in front of Negan, he hadn’t remembered stepping in front of him, and then Negan. “I don’t underst-“

  
The door slammed open and dozens of Negan’s men filled the room, guns aimed at Sasha.

  
For a second Sasha looked conflicted, she clearly didn’t want to back down but she didn’t want to shoot Kennedy either. “ _Move_!” She said again.

  
“Don’t shoot,” Kennedy yelled, more to Negan’s men than Sasha, he spun to Negan. “Don’t kill her, please. I know her, I know her.”

  
Negan obediently held up a hand to stop his men but he didn’t look happy about it. “We’ll talk about this.”

  
Kennedy didn’t bother to reply but instead turned back to Sasha. “Put the gun down.”

  
“You don’t know what he did!” Now Sasha sounded close to tears as well.

  
“Please, Sasha, just put the gun down and we’ll talk okay?”

  
Sasha shook her head once, then twice. But she was surrounded, and there was no sure way to shoot Negan without hitting Kennedy. She lowered her rifle, looking anything but happy about it.

  
Negan’s guards took the gun away from her and set to tying her up. Then as quickly as she’d come in she was gone, whisked away but three guards.

  
Negan stepped towards the door, pausing to look back at Kennedy. He looked conflicted. “We’ll talk about this,” he repeated.

  
Kennedy just nodded, still processing what had happened.

  
“I’ve got to deal with some things now but... we will talk about this.” With that, he left.

  
Silence replaced his presence and Kennedy equally found it both comforting and unbearable.

  
Sasha was alive.

  
_We. She’d said: we. Did that mean that other’s we’re alive too? Did that mean Beth-_

  
Kennedy shoved that thought deep down where it came from.

  
He couldn’t think about that, wouldn’t allow himself to be hopeful. But in truth he already was hopeful and once that feeling came up it wouldn’t go back down.

 

It was still late at night when he was called down to the cells. It was dark and silent save for the distant murmur of that god awful easy street song. Sasha was being guarded by two of Negan’s men but in the wake of the incident there was about five of them in total roaming the halls of the cells.

  
“She’s with the people at Alexandria,” Negan said to one of the men. “I’m gonna need preparations for a house call, we gotta teach them that this shit is not allowed.”

  
“What about David?” The guard asked.

  
“Leave him in there, she'll deal with him when he turns.”

  
Anger spiked through Kennedy. They were supposed to be guarding her.

  
“You sure?”

  
Negan laughed breathily. “I’m sure.”

  
Kennedy stepped around the corner revealing himself to the two guards and Negan. He took a second to wash the anger out of his tone before he spoke. “What happened?”

  
Negan squinted at Kennedy but then smiled broadly. “Hey, baby. What’re you doin’ here?”

  
He was still suspicious of him, so Kennedy made sure to make himself sound nervous when he replied. “Is she okay?”

  
“She’s fine. One of the guys just got a bit handsy is all, I took care of it.”

  
Kennedy had seen what Negan did to men accused of rape. He winced. “He didn’t hurt her did he?”

  
“You seem awfully worried about the woman who tried to kill me,” Negan pointed out.

  
The guards looked increasingly uncomfortable.

  
Kennedy wrung his hands together in an attempt to make himself look nervous, Negan liked to see he had an effect on people.

  
“I knew her before you found me,” Kennedy said.

  
“You said you were alone before I found you.”

  
“I was, for about four months.” A lie. “Before that, I was with a small group of survivors that me and my family stumbled across one day.” A half lie, they’d been a group but certainly not a small one, and Rick and the others had stumbled across his family, not the other way around.

  
“You never told me you were with other people,” Negan commented.

  
The guards tried to pretend they weren’t listening.

  
“I thought they were all dead, a herd of the dead wiped most of them out a few months ago, I thought I was the only one who made it out.” It was another half lie. Negan didn’t need to know the intricacies of how he’d lost his home and family.

  
“So you knew her way back when and that’s why you can excuse her trying to kill me?” Negan was smiling but it was anything but amused.

  
“They... helped me through a lot,” Kennedy admitted. “When my brother died near the beginning...they were there for me, even when I...” He gestured to his scarred arm. It was yet another lie, a big one, Kennedy’s scars were very old and he’d had Shawn and Shawn was dead and though the group had helped Kennedy through a lot they had not helped him in the matter of his brother's death.

  
Negan bought it. He visibly softened, as he always did, at the mention of Kennedy’s scars.

  
Kennedy thought of asking to see her but then stopped. Negan had just stopped suspecting him of plotting to kill him and he didn’t want to push on that healing wound too quick. Besides, he didn’t think he was ready to talk to her anyway.

  
“Just... please don’t kill her,” he said instead. “I get that she can’t get away with it but... just don’t kill her.”

  
Negan was quiet for a long time, considering. “I’ll do what I can,” He said finally.

  
Kennedy let out a breath of relief. “Thank you.”

  
“You can see her later,” Negan started after a second. “I just wanna let her stew for a bit.”

  
Kennedy nodded and backed towards the hallway.

  
The guards looked incredibly relieved at his retreat and Kennedy could share the sentiment. Lying to Negan was a slippery slope. In the beginning, he simply hadn’t cared enough to ask Kennedy about his past life and Kennedy certainly hadn’t cared enough to tell him. But he’d never gone so far to _lie_ to him either.

  
Kennedy sighed and rubbed his temples.

  
He could've told the truth but he wasn't sure how he felt about Negan knowing so much about his past. Especially in their situation.

  
He needed a nap, or a drink, or both.

  
”What the fuck happened?”

  
Kennedy stopped at the sound of the gruff voice that came from around the corner.

  
Tom.

Kennedy suddenly felt his shoulder twitch in pain.

  
”Some bitch from Alexandria got in at night, tried to kill Negan, ” A different voice replied.

  
”And she's still alive?” Tom asked, clearly confused.

  
”Apparently Ken knows her so Negan let her live.”

  
Kennedy heard the disdain in Tom’s voice; ”I'm so sick of him getting whatever the fuck he wants by spreading his legs while we actually work for what we have.”

  
Kennedy rolled his eyes and his shoulder and rounded the corner only hearing the tail end of the second guard's agreement before it cut off at his presence.

  
Tom simply looked annoyed.

  
The second guard looked terrified.

  
” _Boys_ , ” Kennedy drawled, moving past them with a sort of drunken grace. He could feel Tom’s eyes on his back as he made his way down the hall. A nauseating feeling clenched at his guts, only releasing when he was out of Tom’s eyeshot.

  
Suddenly, Kennedy felt exhausted.

  
He realized it was early morning now. He’d been up all night.

  
With a defeated sigh he headed to his room for a nap.

 

THREE MONTHS BEFORE

 

They took Kennedy to a shower, letting him bathe for the first time since he’d washed off in that river where he’d found his butterfly knife, and then they gave him a change of clothes. They didn’t fit great but they were gloriously clean.

  
“Where are my other clothes?” Kennedy asked once he’d dressed.

  
Mustache, Simon as the others called him, gestured at one of the guards.

  
The guard stepped forward and held out Kennedy’s bag.

  
Kennedy stepped forward to grab it but the guard retreated with it a second later.

  
“Your weapons, clothes, maps, all that personal shit has to be confiscated until you pay your debt,” Simon explained.

  
“Debt?” Kennedy asked. “I didn’t ask for you to fix me, I was doing just fine on my own.”

  
It was a lie and they both knew it.

  
“If you’ve got a problem take it up with the boss until then your personal effects belong to us.”

  
Kennedy watched as his bag disappeared along with the guard that held it. “‘Boss’?” He asked.

  
Simon grinned.

  
Then they gave Kennedy a pair of crutches and led him to a set of double doors.

  
“Here you go,” Simon said. “The _boss_ is inside.”

  
Kennedy hesitated for a moment then shoved one of the doors open and hobbled inside.

  
It was some kind of conference room but it seemed to be currently in use as a dining room. A single wall was covered in windows but they were too dirty to see through.

Positioned in the middle of the room was a large wooden table surrounded by chairs. At the end of the table, a man sat in a leather jacket, eating what looked like a plate of spaghetti.

  
The man looked up at Kennedy’s arrival. “Well, well, well... what do we have here?” The man's voice was deep and almost playful in tone.

  
“Fresh meat,” Simon said from behind him.

  
Kennedy squinted back at him, annoyed.

  
“Indeed he is,” the man drawled. “What’s his name?”

  
“He hasn’t said.”

  
“Hmm...” the man smiled deviously at Kennedy. “What’s your name, darlin’?”

  
Kennedy looked the room over once more. “I could ask you the same thing.”

  
The man looked delighted by this. “Of course, where are my manners, I’m Negan, leader of this fine establishment.”

  
“I don’t understand _why-_ “

  
“Your turn," the man, Negan, cut in.

  
Something uncomfortable settled in his chest. “I’m- I’m Kennedy, my name is Kennedy.” After almost two months of being alone without anyone to talk to other then those thugs on the train hearing his name out loud sounded strange.

  
Negan smiled and gestured to the seat straight across from his. A plate of spaghetti had been set there as well.

  
“Eat,” Negan commanded. “I can’t imagine how long it’s been since you’ve had a good meal. Go ahead, it’s good, trust me.”

  
Kennedy eyed the food, his stomach roiled. “I’m good,” he said.

  
Negan shrugged. “Some wine then? Our guys found a really nice red when they found you.”

  
“I don’t drink,” Kennedy replied automatically.

  
His family had a fairly long history of alcoholism and Kennedy had never been willing to risk it. Even in college.

  
“Come on now, Ken. Can I call you Ken?” He didn’t wait for Kennedy to reply. “You just dug yourself out of a hole so deep none of us thought you’d get out of it. Seriously, when my boys found you out on that road they thought you were dead. Your lucky my second Simon back there was smart enough to realize you weren’t. The way you were if we hadn’t have found you you’d be dead right now. So be happy, _celebrate_.” He lifted his own glass of wine as though he were prompting Kennedy to do the same.

  
“Why?” Kennedy asked finally. “Why did you tell them to _save_ me?”

  
Negan grinned as if Kennedy had just asked him a question he’d been waiting for. “Because people are a resource and Simon had a feeling you’d be useful... so tell me, Are you?”

 

THREE MONTHS LATER

 

Kennedy awoke to the feeling of stubble scraping his cheek. He wrinkled his nose and tried to bury his head further into the pillow but the feeling remained.

  
“What time is it?” He asked Negan.

  
Negan hummed against him. “Around four?”

  
“Shit.” Kennedy peeled his eyes open and looked to his window, surely enough the light was minimal.

  
“Did you sleep at all last night?” Negan asked, brushing a stray strand of Kennedy’s hair from his eyes.

  
Kennedy blinked, realizing he was in his own room. Negan never slept in Kennedy’s room, ever. The only time he even went inside it was when he needed something.

  
“Is something wrong?” Kennedy asked, thinking of Sasha.

  
Negan chuckled. “Does there have to be something wrong for me to sleep with my husband?”

  
“ _Negan_.”

  
Negan’s smile faded. “She wants to talk to you.”

  
Kennedy’s heartbeat sped up. “Is she okay?”

  
“She’s fine, just-“ Negan sighed. “Don’t let her talk you into anything, alright?”

  
Surprise temporarily paused his panic. “I can talk with her?”

  
Negan sighed, “I ain’t gonna keep you from her and if you’re set on keeping her alive then I won’t kill her. I can make an example out of her if she cooperates but to do that I need her to cooperate and something tells me you can help with that. Just- she’s pissed at me, be prepared for that.”

  
_He’s just using me to get to her_ , Kennedy realized. _He doesn’t really care, he’s just pretending._

  
So Kennedy put on a pretty smile and pressed his lips to Negan’s firmly. “Thank you, I’ll do what I can.”

  
Kennedy had long since learned that if you did as Negan wished eventually he’ll give you something you want in return. And Kennedy and Negan’s relationship was built on a constant push and pull of want and give. Negan wanted submission: Kennedy gave it to him. Kennedy wanted booze: Negan gave it to him. Negan wanted Kennedy: Kennedy gave that to him too.

  
Negan smiled gratefully. “Thanks, Kenny. I knew you’d understand, baby.”

  
“Of course.”

Kennedy felt the pain in his shoulder spike once again.

 

THREE MONTHS BEFORE

 

“I didn’t ask for you to save me.”

  
“But we did, and now you owe us.”

  
Kennedy shook his head. He was sitting now in the seat across from Negan.

  
“Listen, we have a _system_ here. We give you food, shelter, and you work for us in return. It’s not that complicated,” Negan explained.

  
“Fine,” Kennedy spat out bitterly. “Send me out there, I’ll find you the supplies you used to patch me up and I’ll be on my way.”

  
Negan chuckled lowly and looked Kennedy over as though he were in awe.

  
“ _What_?”

  
“Through all the time I’ve been running this place I don’t think I’ve ever heard someone offer to pay us back like that. Nobody wants to go out there after shit happens to them.”

  
“So we have a deal then?” Kennedy said, sitting up a bit straighter.

  
Negan paused for a long moment the tsked. “Here’s the thing, Kenny; I _like_ you, I think you’ve got attitude and determination: a combination that would typically annoy me but with you...” he looked Kennedy over once more. “I don’t want you to die, I think it’d be a damn waste and let’s be honest if you go out there with that fucked up leg and hand you’ll be torn apart in minutes.”

  
“So what then?” Kennedy asked.

  
Negan smiled slowly. “I’ll tell you what... we’ll sort that out later, just rest up now, and eat.”

  
Kennedy sent his spaghetti a disdainful look.

  
“You’re no use to me if you die of starvation before I can get my investment back, Kennedy.”

  
Kennedy sighed slowly and ate the spaghetti.

 

THREE MONTHS LATER

 

The door to Sasha’s cell was made of a cool metal that bit at his fingertips when he touched the handle.

  
Kennedy took a shaky breath.

  
Just looking at it sent his heart into overdrive.

  
_We._

  
Even if she was lying... he had to know.

  
Kennedy opened the door.

  
The cell itself was small as all the others, with no light source other than the hall, and no furniture. Sasha sat in the middle of it all, her legs sprawled out in front of her.

  
She was sweaty and tired looking but she seemed ultimately unharmed.

  
Kennedy closed the door till only a sliver of light leaked through it.

  
“So I wasn’t hallucinating,” Sasha observed. “Unless I’m hallucinating now?”

  
Kennedy couldn’t help how small his voice sounded. “You’re not hallucinating.”

  
“Okay,” She started. “Then what the _hell_ are you doing here, Kenny?”

  
“I could ask _you_ the same thing!”

  
Sasha shook her head. “I asked you first.”

  
Kennedy considered lying, it was the smartest option but... it felt wrong to lie to Sasha. “I’m Negan’s husband.”

  
Sasha’s face contorted into a mix of disgust and misery. “ _No_...”

  
“He helped me,” Kennedy explained, suddenly feeling as though he had to. “I was hurt and alone and he helped me.”

  
Sasha shook her head. She was crying. “I- Kenny, you don’t understand...”

  
“Understand _what_? Why are you trying to kill him? I’m mean I know he’s not the greatest personality but-“

  
“Do you love him?” Sasha interrupted.

  
Kennedy blinked. “ _What_?”

  
“Negan. Do you love Negan? Daryl said that Negan has a bunch of wives, that they’re forced to marry him. Do you love him or were you forced into this?”

  
“Daryl...?” Kennedy choked out.

  
He remembered the flashes of long brown hair he saw, the flashes of a vest with wings on the back, flashes of a ratty tee shirt with the letter A spray painted onto it.

  
_She’s with the people at Alexandria._ Negan had said.

  
He’d thought he’d been going insane.

  
“He’s alive?”

  
“Do you love him?” There was something stern about the question and Kennedy suddenly knew that his answer was incredibly important to Sasha.

  
Once again he answered truthfully. “ _No_ ,” he said, making sure to lower his voice to where the guards couldn’t hear it. “I don’t.”

  
Something like relief washed over Sasha’s face. “You _need_ to know,” she said. “Maggie’s-“

  
The cell door swung open.

  
“Kenny, up.”

  
Kennedy spun around on his heels.

  
Tom.

  
“What the _fuck_ do you want?” Kennedy asked.

  
“Negan wants to see you,” Tom replied gruffly as ever.

  
“It can wait,” Kennedy replied, turning back to Sasha.

  
“It really can’t,” Tom shot back.

  
Kennedy paused then turned once again, blinking up at Tom.

  
Something was wrong.

  
“Sasha,” he started, not turning away from Tom. “No matter what happens, no matter what they tell you to do, just do it. I can get you out of this if you just trust me and do as they say.” Kennedy stood and headed for the door.

  
“ _Kenny_ , Wait, I have to tell you-“

Tom slammed the door shut behind him. “ _C’mon_ ,” he commanded, leading the way down the hall.

  
“What is it?” Kennedy asked, following close behind.

  
“Hell if I know.”

  
Kennedy didn’t press, there was no need to. They reached the Negan’s room in a matter of minutes.

  
Negan sat at the bar once again and spun around to face him once he heard the door open.

  
“What’s wrong?” Kennedy asked once Tom shut the door behind him. “I was making progress with her.”

  
“Progress? _Really_?” His voice had the same dangerous air to it that it’d had when he’d stabbed Kennedy. “I was thinkin’, earlier, about what you said about how you met her, how she helped you.”

  
Kennedy made sure to keep his distance as he replied. “Yeah? What about it?”

  
“When did your brother die?”

  
Kennedy frowned. “I-I told you... near the beginning.”

  
“‘Near the beginning’... and that was how long ago now? Three years? Four?”

  
“Something like that.”

  
“And those scars on your arms... how old are they?” Negan continued.

  
Kennedy swallowed but his voice still came out creaky when he replied. “A few years old, I guess.”

  
“How _many_ years old?”

  
Kennedy didn’t reply.

  
“Why did you lie to me again, Ken? You know I don’t like my people lying to me.” Negan pushed off of his seat and started towards Kennedy. “I don’t want to hurt you, baby. You know that... so why do you keep on _testing_ me?”

  
“I... I’m _sorry_ , I just...” Kennedy’s voice was barely a whisper. “You can’t hurt her... she’s- she’s all I have left, Negan.”

  
Negan shook his head. If Kennedy didn’t know better he’d describe his expression as sorrowful. “You had me.”

  
Kennedy had discovered through his months by Negan’s side that he was a surprisingly good actor. He could get himself out of this. “Do I?” He asked, willing his voice to shake. “You’re never around, you don’t trust me with _anything_ , and-“

  
“I trust you with what you _earn_.” Negan’s voice was loud and sudden. The sound of it alone caused Kennedy to reel back a bit.

  
“You want me to just let you do whatever want? That’s not the way things work here and you know it. You get what you earn and nowadays I don’t think you’ve earned even half of what you’ve got. So I’ll tell you what you’re going to do.” He pushed off the bar stool and strolled over to where Kennedy stood by the door. “You are going to go over to that bar over there or to the Lounge or to the loading docks and you’re going to smoke or drink yourself sick and you are going to stay within those three places at all times because you are back on house arrest now, baby, and I don’t want you trying to talk yourself out of it this time because it is not going to work out for you.” And with that, he left.  
Kennedy let out a shaky breath.

  
_Well, that went well._

 

Kennedy drank because there wasn't much else to do with Negan’s men following him everywhere he went. A day passed and Negan showed no signs of pulling back his orders.

Kennedy brainstormed several ways to try and convince him otherwise but all involved time which he didn’t have, and sex which Negan seemed immune to now.

  
Negan refused to touch him, even when they slept in the same bed together. The whole scenario seemed ridiculous to Kennedy but he was still in the middle of it and if he wanted to figure out what Sasha wanted to tell him he needed to get out of it somehow.

  
A solution presented itself at noon when Kennedy finally got tired of Negan’s room and headed for the Lounge.

  
The Lounge was busy and somber as always. The girls glared at him as he headed for the bar, as always. And Kennedy poured himself a glass of whiskey, as always.

  
Justin, who’d been assigned as his guard for the day, paused at the doorway as Tom did when he entered, not wanting to intrude on the girls.

  
Kennedy didn’t care, he was too exhausted to care. He was starting to get really tired of trying so hard to meet Negan’s expectations every day.

  
Norah slid into the seat next to him.

  
Kennedy laughed but he wasn’t amused. “You’re going to get us both in trouble.”

  
“I thought you got out of house arrest, why are the guards acting like you're a flight risk or some shit?” Norah asked, pouring herself a glass as well.

  
Kennedy sipped his drink and shrugged. “I fucked up again,” he explained simply.

  
Norah frowned at him. “Are you okay, Kennedy?”

  
Kennedy smiled but it was watery.

  
“Shit,” Norah muttered, she sent a quick panicked look to Justin (who promptly looked away) and rested a hand on Kennedy’s shoulder comfortingly.

His shoulder ached with the weight of it.

  
Kennedy dragged a hand over his face and squeezed his teary eyes shut.

  
“ _Hey_.” Norah ducked her head in an attempt to catch his eye. “Don’t do this alright? It’s gonna be alright.”

  
“Why the fuck do you care? I killed your boyfriend, right?”

  
Norah sighed and sat up a bit straighter. “I was wrong to say that... it wasn’t right.”

  
Kennedy looked up. “But it’s true, right?”

  
Norah paused staring into his eyes levelly. “What’s gotten into you? Where is this coming from?”

  
Kennedy waved that off and downed the rest of his whiskey. “I told you, I fucked up again.”

  
“Kennedy, be more specific.”

  
Kennedy ran a hand through his long hair and tried to compose himself a bit more. “There’s a friend of mine in the cells downstairs,” he said. “She tried to kill Negan but... anyway, she got caught and I tried to get him to let me see her but I _fucked up_ and now he won’t let me go past the docks.”

  
Norah frowned and took another sip of her drink.

  
“It’s just- the last time I saw my two sisters they were running towards gunshots. She was there then and as far as I know she saw what happened and- and if they’re dead then they’re dead and there’s nothing I can do about that I just- I just wanna some _fucking_ closure.”

  
Norah was quiet for a long minute, then she turned back to Kennedy. “What cell’s she in?” She asked.

  
Kennedy’s brows drew together. He told her.

  
“Alright, I’ll go talk to her for you.”

  
“What about-“

  
“They don’t give as big of a shit about me as they do you, they never gave me guards.”

  
Kennedy shook his head. “Why would you help me?”

  
Norah gave him a tiny smile. “Because you tried to help me,” she said. “And seeing you so miserable isn’t as entertaining as I thought it’d be.”

  
Kennedy laughed wetly. “Thank you, Norah.”

  
“Don’t thank me yet. Figure out a way to get yourself out of this shit, I’ll deal with your chick. What’s her name?”

  
“Sasha.”

  
“Hey guys,” Justin interrupted, stepping up to the bar. “I hate to interrupt but you guys really aren’t supposed to be talking with each other and Simon is coming.”

  
“Thanks for the heads up, Justin,” Kennedy said, pushing away from the bar.

  
“Hey,” Norah said as he turned away. “Find me afterwards.”

  
Kennedy nodded and let Justin escort him out of the Lounge.

 

When Negan returned later that evening Kennedy was sprawled across the couch, a glass of wine in one hand and a book in the other.

  
“What’re you doin’?” He asked, though it was obvious.

  
“Reading,” Kennedy replied curtly.

  
“Why?” Negan asked, perplexed.

  
“Because I can.”

  
“Yeah, you can, but you don’t. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you read anything other than a label on a bottle.”

  
“I’m branching out,” Kennedy said wryly.

  
Negan tilted the top of the book downwards so he could better read the cover. “Anne of Green Gables,” he read aloud. “You know we have a library right?”

  
“A library that I can’t go to,” Kennedy pointed out.

  
Negan sighed and nudged Kennedy’s legs gently.

  
Obediently He lifted his legs so Negan could sit under them.

  
“Where did you even get that?”

  
“Justin, it was his sister’s favorite book.”

  
Negan frowned. “I didn’t know he had a sister.”

  
They sat like that for awhile, Kennedy reading and Negan tapping a rhythmless best on his thighs.

  
“You’re mad,” Negan guessed after a few minutes.

  
“I’m frustrated,” Kennedy corrected.

  
Negan sighed. “You- you brought this on yourself, kiddo.”

  
Kennedy laughed. “‘ _Kiddo_ ’? Oh, so I’m your kid now?”

  
Negan just shook his head and rubbed his temples. “Listen, you are an example to all the girls, an example of how to behave. I can’t have you running around, doing anything you want.”

  
“I’m not doing anything I want, I’m talking to an old friend.”

  
“I know its just-“ Negan sighed. “Why’d you have to lie about the _scars_ , Kenny?”

  
Kennedy closed the book, not bothering to mark his page, he’d read it before. He placed the book carefully on the coffee table, sat up, and downed the rest of his wine. “Because-“ he started. “I didn’t want you to know what really happened.” It was the truth and Kennedy hated it even as he said it but he needed to say it.

  
This was why Negan was angry at him. Not Norah, not Sherry, not even Sasha. It was the lying that pissed him off. So to assure that everything went back to normal; he had to tell a truth, a big one.

  
“ _And_? What did really happen?” Negan asked cautiously.

  
Kennedy shook his head and sat his empty wine glass down next to his book. “It was stupid.”

  
“That’s alright.”

  
Kennedy sighed. “I was fourteen, my first boyfriend told the whole school I was gay, kids started being dicks, and the school called my dad and told him about it. I thought he’d be mad so... so I decided to end it before I saw him. It didn’t work.” It was a watered-down version of the truth but the truth nonetheless.

  
“I told you it was stupid.” He said after Negan didn’t reply.

  
“No it’s just- I don’t know, I guess I suspected something different.”

  
“Like what?”

  
Negan paused for a second then shook his head and smiled. “Lover’s quarrel?”

  
Kennedy chuckled with him though he wasn’t amused. “Technically it was.”

  
Negan hummed. “Listen, I know I’m not necessarily your go-to but you can tell me this shit, baby.”

  
Kennedy plastered on the most convincing smile that he could manage and nodded. He didn’t intend to take Negan up on his offer but he wasn’t going to tell him that.

  
They spent the rest of the evening in relative silence, Negan drinking a few glasses of wine, and Kennedy reading more of his book.

  
He had vague memories of his stepmother Annette reading it to him and Beth when he young. Kennedy hadn’t really been a fan but Beth had adored it and he would’ve sat through anything for his younger sister. Reading it now he thought he understood why she enjoyed it; it was simple, sweet, just like she was.

 

Kennedy didn’t learn that Negan lifted his house arrest until the next morning when he woke up to a distinct lack of guards outside his bedroom. He hadn’t asked Negan to lift it out of fear of him figuring him out so telling the truth had been a gamble but it was one he’d had to take.

  
Typically, Kennedy wasn’t guarded at all. He was important to Negan’s lifestyle but not particularly important to Negan himself. Besides, nobody had any reason to kill Kennedy other than to piss off Negan.

  
Kennedy headed straight for the Lounge as soon as he was dressed. Though, he didn’t want to, dealing with Negan’s other spouses after drinking in excess the night before never boded well for his sanity.

  
He wasn’t sure if Norah would’ve had the time to actually get in to see Sasha but he had to check.

  
The Lounge was flush with activity in the early morning. Some of the girls were chatting, others were crying, most were drinking.

  
Amber still sat alone on one of the sofas, her eyes distant and teary.

  
Kennedy considered saying something to her but swiftly brushed that thought away, he was there for a reason. But Norah wasn’t there.

  
Panic gripped him as he headed to the bar, as casually as he could manage.

  
What if she got caught?

  
What if she told on him? She’d done it before.

  
Kennedy brushed that thought away as quickly as it had surfaced. He couldn’t worry about that. If she had betrayed him again Negan wouldn’t have taken the guards off him.

  
Movement in his peripheral vision caused him to turn just as Maisie, the wife Kennedy had gotten drunk to distract from Norah’s absence while he was trying to get her and Mike out, sat on the stool next to him.

  
“Hey,” she greeted politely.

  
“Hey,” Kennedy echoed, cautiously.

  
“Norah said you’d be looking for her.”

  
Kennedy paused at that, casting Maisie a sideways look. “She said that?”

  
Maisie nodded, reaching over the bar for a drink but distinctly avoiding the bottles with alcohol in them and instead grabbing a bottle of water. “She told me to tell you to meet her outside on the docks.”

  
Kennedy nodded slowly. “Thanks.” He pushed off the chair but turned back to face Maisie before he headed for the door. “Sorry, about before...”

  
“You mean when you got me shitfaced? Don’t worry about it.”

  
“Right. Um, I don’t have to tell you not to tell anyone about this, right?”

  
Maisie gave him an exasperated look. “Do I _look_ stupid to you?”

  
“Thanks,” Kennedy said one last time before turning around and heading for the loading docks.

 

Kennedy had been worried about the docks being too busy for comfort but surprisingly when he shoved the metal door open they were sparsely populated by workers minding the wall and, of course, _Norah_.

  
She stood on the concrete platform with her back to him holding onto the safety rail like it was a lifeline.

  
Instead of directly alerting them to his presence he simply let the door close with a bang behind him.

  
At the noise Norah spun around, her wide eyes only went back to normal when she realized it was just Kennedy.

  
“Did you talk to her?” Kennedy asked, lowering his voice to a whisper.

  
Norah waved him over.

  
Kennedy complied, scanning the yard for anyone who might tell Negan about their meeting and coming up empty.

  
“You need to talk to her.”

It took a long second for that to sink in. For a second Kennedy just sputtered. “I- I _can’t_ , I told you. That’s why I had you go see her in the first place. Did you even get past the guards?”

  
Norah gave him a blank look. “Of course I did they’re fucking idiots, but that’s not the point, the point is that you need to go talk to her because she has shit to tell you. Important shit.”

  
“Why the fuck can’t you just tell me?”

  
Norah sighed, rubbing her temples. “She asked for you specifically. Besides, it’s not my place.”

  
Kennedy shook his head, looking out across the yard as though something out there might give him an answer to his problems. “ _How_?” He asked simply after a minute of contemplation.

  
“Did you sort things out with Negan?”

  
Kennedy nodded.

  
“Good, If you don’t have guards on your ass it’ll make things a lot simpler. Justin will be on tonight, talk him into letting you in,” Norah instructed.

  
“Wait, how do you know that?”

  
“He was on last night and he told me then. The ones wandering the hall aren’t the ones to worry about, they don’t give a shit about what’s happening around them, just don’t look them in the eye and walk right past.”

  
“How do I know if Justin will let me through?” he asked, placing a hand on his suddenly aching injured shoulder.

  
Norah laughed. “He will just-just trust me, he will.”

  
Kennedy sighed and leaned forward onto the handrail. “Can you at least tell me whether it’s good or bad news?”

  
Norah’s face softened. “Just talk to Sasha,” She said. “Just talk to her.”

 

It was late when Kennedy finally got the chance to head to the cells. Part of him was worried that Negan would send someone looking for him because of it but that was a risk he’d have to take. He’d taken the time to dump out all the wine in the room in hopes that Negan would just think that he’d gone in search of more booze.

  
The halls of the Sanctuary were dark and creepy looking at night, few of the lightbulbs in the hallways were functioning so the only real light was what little reflected off the moon in through the windows.

  
Norah was right, the guards that were instructed to roam the halls didn’t so much as spare him a second glance as he passed.

  
Kennedy let out a sigh of relief after he passed them, hurrying through the next corner so he’d be out of their eyeshot just in case and he ran straight into a warm body.

  
“Woah there,” Justin chuckled, steadying himself and Kennedy. “Where’s the fire?”

  
Kennedy let out another heavy sigh.

  
“Wait, What are you- Oh, no, no, no, _no_ -“

  
“ _Justin_ -“ Kennedy started, voice hushed.

  
“No, I can’t let you see her, Kenny. I could get in serious trouble for this, I have family that I need to look out for.”

  
“I know, I know, I just- five minutes-“

  
Justin shook his head.

  
“Five minutes, that’s all I need and if something happens I’ll take the blame, I promise.”

  
Justin rubbed his temples.

  
“ _Five minutes_ , that’s it.”

 

"You _can’t_ ask them about me," Kennedy said once he slipped into Sasha's cell. "It's dangerous. They shouldn't even know that I know you but I had to tell them so they wouldn't kill you."

  
Sasha smiled slowly, "Maggie's alive.”

  
Kennedy stopped breathing.

  
"She's alive, so is Rick, Carl, Daryl, Carol, Michone all of them they're alive."

  
Kennedy couldn't breathe, couldn't move.

  
"Some of us are dead, Glenn and Beth, Tyrese and Bob.”

  
Kennedy’s brain was having trouble processing that information.

  
"Negan killed Glenn, you should _know_ that it was with that baseball bat he always carries around, Lucille. He's fucking _insane_ , Kennedy. He's not okay. You said you don't love him, that you don't care about him like that, so leaving here should be easier then."

  
Kennedy sunk to the floor, a hand clutching his abdomen as he fought to keep a sob down. First his dad now his baby sister and Glenn. _Glenn,_ Negan killed Glenn.

  
Kennedy blinked, the tears that had been forming in his eyes spilling down his cheeks. "I can't leave, he'll kill you."

  
Sasha smiled again, slow and tired but content. “I'll already be dead."

  
Kennedy blinked again and more tears rolled down his cheeks. "What are you gonna do?"

  
"Kill him if everything goes as planned."

  
"He won't hurt you if I tell him not to but if you try to kill him again-"

  
"He won't kill me, _I'll_ kill me."

  
Kennedy started at her, mouth hanging open. "Please, _please_ don't, Sasha. You're all I have left."

  
Sasha shook her head and placed her hand on his wet cheek. "No, you have your sister, your family. Find her, find _them_ , and keep them safe, for me."

  
Kennedy tried unsuccessfully to swallow the lump in his throat.

  
"What do I do?"

  
Sasha's smile was determined. "Get the hell out of here. Everyone will be gone tomorrow night, leave then, take a gun if you can. Go to Alexandria, that's where Rick and the others are, they'll take you to Maggie. Help everyone in any way you can. Be happy, be safe." Sasha took Kennedy's face in her hands. "I'm sorry that you didn't have us when it would've counted, I'm sorry you had to resort to this."

  
Kennedy nodded then kissed her cheek softly. "If you don't kill him _I_ will." He pulled back.

  
Sasha nodded and smiled again.

 

"Thank you, Sasha, thank you."

  
"Tell Maggie that I'm sorry I didn't get to say goodbye."

  
Kennedy nodded, whipped his face, and with a last farewell left Sasha to her thoughts.

 

Negan was smiling like he'd just won the lottery. "I don't think I've ever been quite this excited, baby."

As soon as he came in he started rattling off his plan. Go to Alexandria, take Sasha as a bargaining chip, kill who needed killing.

  
Kennedy was finding it difficult to play along, all he could think about is what Sasha had told him.

  
_He killed Glenn. He killed one of the nicest people I've ever met, one of the very few people that I actually liked, Maggie's fucking husband_.

  
Negan came up behind him and wrapped his arms around his waist.

  
"Oh, baby I'm gonna be on a hell of an adrenaline high when I get home tomorrow.” He pressed a kiss to Kennedy's neck. "Be prepared for that."

  
Kennedy's stomach lurched. "Be safe," He said.

  
_I hope Sasha tears this asshole to fucking shreds_.

  
"Oh, I will be, baby. I will be... hey, you wanna new wine? What's his face, the dick that we get our booze from, Maisie’s dad, got a new bottle of wine, nothing special but it's new."

  
"Yeah, that'd be nice."

  
Negan pressed another kiss to Kennedy's neck. "You alright?"

  
Kennedy forced a smile onto his face. "Never been better."

  
Negan gave him an unimpressed look.

  
"You've been too stressed lately." He pulled Kennedy around so they were face to face. "I can take care of that."

  
Kennedy chuckled a smoothly as he could manage. “I thought we were gonna wait till tomorrow when you're on your _adrenaline high._ ”

  
Negan laughed lowly, the vibrations rumbling through his chest. “Alright then, baby, we’ll make it a date.”

  
Kennedy grinned. “It’ll be a date.” He agreed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yea..  
> I guess this is kind of the chapter you’ve all been waiting for? The one where Kenny figured out how bad of a dude Negan is.  
> So the next one is gonna have a lot of shit going down in it and the one after that is going to have even more shit going down. So get excited I guess?  
> Did I mention I’m tired?  
> Thanks to everyone who commented and left kudos on the last chapter, I love y'all.   
> Kudos make my grades go up and comments help me to actually understand math. What. A. Blessing.  
> I’m goin' to bed.


	9. The Last Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kennedy talks with Negan about paying him back. Three months later Kennedy takes action.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...uh, hi again?  
> I got a very sudden burst of inspiration today and pretty much wrote the entirety of this while procrastinating. It may be good, may be bad. I honestly don’t think I can tell the difference anymore. So here’s a treat for y’all, I guess.  
> It might be a bit shorter than usual but I guess that's to be expected considering I literally wrote it all today.  
> Two chapters in a row! Woo! Don’t get used to it.  
> Hope y’all enjoy.

 

THREE MONTHS BEFORE

 

It had been two days since Kennedy had arrived at the Sanctuary and he was starting to get concerned. Negan had yet to introduce any sort solution to how Kennedy could pay back his “debt” to the Saviors. He’d been spending the last two days (to his discomfort) resting, nursing his waning infection, and trying to get his eating schedule back to normal.

  
Dr. Carson had apparently had him on fluids while he’d been unconscious and had suggested that Kennedy continue taking them but he refused. He knew he’d have to pay them back in whatever he took and finding food was easier than finding medical supplies such as antibiotics and an IV.

  
His leg was healing, slowly but surely. It was still swollen to hell and he still couldn’t walk on it but it was no longer hot to the touch and putting his weight on it no longer made him want to puke his guts up.

  
His hand was healing better now too. With the cast on Kennedy barely noticed it and Dr. Carson said that it’d heal in a few weeks.

  
It was a process but it had at the very least already started.

  
It was on his third day at the Sanctuary that Negan called him to his rooms via Simon.

  
“Has he decided what he wants?” Kennedy asked, limping a short distance behind Simon.

  
Simon grinned. “You know what? I think he has.”

  
Kennedy frowned at the amusement in his tone but didn’t question it.

  
“How’s the leg?” Simon asked conversationally.

  
“Better,” Kennedy replied honestly.

  
Though he hated to admit it the supplies and care Negan had offered likely saved his life.

  
“I am genuinely glad to hear that,” Simon said with a smile that Kennedy didn’t believe for a second. “We wouldn’t want one small bullet to fuck up your ability to walk forever now would we?”

  
Kennedy just gave him a long look in response.

  
Simon didn’t seem bothered by this. “Here we are!” He announced once they reached a metal door at the end of a hallway.

  
Kennedy opened the door and slipped inside without so much as a farewell to Simon, not wanting to prolong the awkward conversation any longer.

  
It was only when he turned away from closing the door behind him that he realized how massive Negan’s room was.

  
To Kennedy’s left was a huge canopy bed with silky looking grey sheets covering it, to his right was a massive wall of warehouse windows that were either covered in condensation or just really dirty, and to his front was a small sitting area complete with two couches, an armchair, and a coffee table, and pressed against the far wall was a bar.

  
Kennedy didn’t think he’d ever even been in a room this nice before the apocalypse nonetheless during it.

  
Negan sat at the bar, he spun around when he heard Kennedy come in. “Kenny!”

  
Kennedy tried not to wince at the nickname. It was what his sisters had called him.

  
“How’re you feeling?” Negan pushed off the bar, moving to greet Kennedy by the door.

  
“Alright,” Kennedy managed, still a bit in awe of the room.

  
“It’s impressive right?” Negan asked, eyeing the room himself. “All the furniture came from a store a few miles out, and the bar we made ourselves. Want a drink?”

  
Kennedy shook his head.

  
Negan shrugged then gestured to one of the couches. “Sit.”

  
Kennedy obeyed, settling into one of the heavily cushioned seats. “What is this about?”

  
Negan grinned. “Right to the point, I like it. I wanted to talk to you about an idea for you to pay us back.”

  
“Do you have an idea of where I could scout?”

  
Negan chuckled lowly. “ _No_ , I thought we agreed that that wasn’t a good idea with your leg and hand.”

  
“I know but I have to pay you back somehow.”

  
“Yes,” Negan agreed. “You do. However I don’t think that kind of labor would be best for either of us.”

  
Kennedy frowned. “Then what?”

  
Negan settles into the seat next to him making Kennedy pull back a bit. “Usually, I put people like you out on the wall, tying up the dead to warn off the baddies, you get it. But I don’t think that’d be the best idea for you in your...condition. Another option would be joining our makers if you had some sort of weird ass skill like making bread or whatever the fuck passes for useful these days. Or... you could take the once in a lifetime offer I’m about to give you.”

  
Kennedy raised a single brow.

  
“You could marry me.”

  
Kennedy recoiled and Negan laughed.

  
“Calm down there, Ken, let me explain.” He pushed off the couch and made his way to the bar, carefully pouring himself a glass of wine. “Occasionally, when the debt is too much or they need a free ride I will offer some lucky girls this opportunity. Now, you don’t have to if you don’t want to but it is something to consider, especially the way you are now.”

  
Kennedy was speechless, he genuinely did not know what to say in response.

  
“I know you’re dead set on going back out there the second you can walk without limping again but I want you to look around yourself. We’ve got walls, food, medicine, doctors,” He lifted his glass. “Booze. We have just about anything and everything your heart could desire. If you agree to marry me, which you don’t have to, your debt will be wiped clean, you’ll have a roof over your head, food to fill your belly, clothes that _fit_. It’s up to you but... it’s something to think about.”

  
Kennedy was about to say no (because what else was he going to say?) but something stopped him.

  
He was tired, so goddamn _tired_. He was tired of fighting, tired of going hungry, tired of being _alone_. He’d given up when he collapsed on that road, given up on living and that scared him. He wanted to live, he wanted to survive.

  
So Kennedy swallowed his anxiousness, his nausea at the prospect, and replied; “I’ll think about it.”

 

THREE MONTHS LATER

 

Kennedy, for once, paced his drinking. He didn’t want to be drunk for what he was about to do but he didn’t want to be sober either.

  
Negan and his men had cleared out earlier that morning claiming that they had a long drive ahead of them.

  
Part of Kennedy wanted to ask where Alexandria actually was exactly but then he’d risk Negan asking why he wanted to know. Besides, Kennedy had tried to avoid speaking with Negan at all costs.

  
Sleeping in his room had been torture enough, it took everything Kenny had not to take his butterfly knife and shove it in his throat.

  
_Trust Sasha_ , he told himself. _She’ll kill him, I know she will._

  
But the anger still burned through him. The thought nagged at him.

  
_You should’ve killed him when you had the chance._

  
He wanted to know when it happened, needed to know. Did it happen before he arrived at the Sanctuary? Or was it in the months that Kennedy spent drinking and smoking his cares away? How long had he been sleeping with the man that killed his brother in law?

  
Kennedy sipped at his vodka, savoring the burn.

  
He’d have to stop drinking, he knew that, and it would totally suck, he knew that too.

  
Norah took the seat next to him. “ _Well_?” She asked, brows furrowed in concern. “Did you talk to her?”

  
Kennedy nodded.

  
Norah sighed. “I’m so sorry, Ken.”

  
Kennedy nodded again and turned to face her. “I’m leaving today.”

  
Norah’s eyes widened.

  
“Wanna come with?”

 

Sasha was smart. If there was any time for someone to escape the Sanctuary it was when Negan was on a crusade. The guards that had since wandered the halls had disappeared, leaving the Sanctuary feeling barren and empty. As Sasha had suggested the Saviors took her with them, Kennedy was sure, he checked.

  
All that was left in the Sanctuary were a few spare guards here and there that hadn’t made the cut for the grand scheme, workers who were enjoying their few hours of freedom before the authorities that kept them in line returned, and Negan’s wives, sullen and bored. Part of Kennedy felt bad about leaving them behind but most of them were there for a reason and that reason was going to keep them there no matter how much Kennedy pleaded with them. Their families.

  
Negan had been gone for two hours when Kennedy finally decided that it was time.

  
Without Negan there it was surprisingly easy to wander the Sanctuary. A few people eyed him disapprovingly as he passed them in the hallway but for the most part they left him alone... until they didn’t.

  
“Can I help you with something, _Kenny_?”

  
As soon as he heard the voice he stopped in his tracks, it took him a moment to regain his composure to which he then spun around with a false grace so practiced that it almost came naturally.

  
_Of course_ , they had to leave him behind.

  
“Hey, Tom. I was just looking for the storage room, do you know where it is?” Kennedy struggled to keep his voice calm.

  
“What do you need? I can get it for you,” Tom offered.

  
“No, I can get it. I just need to know where the storage room is.”

  
Tom frowned and Kennedy could see suspicion creeping into his expression.

  
“Negan really wouldn’t like you out of your room while he isn’t here. Just tell me what the fuck you want and I’ll get it.”

  
Kennedy let out a long sigh and tried his best to look exhausted and annoyed. “He was the one who asked me to get them.”

  
“Them?”

  
“Lube,” Kennedy said. “And a condom.”

  
Tom blinked once.

  
“If you really want to get it for me I can tell you what size and-“

  
“No, no, um... it’s on the bottom floor, by the back exit with the bikes.”

  
Kennedy already knew this but he thanked Tom anyway with a sultry but thoroughly annoyed smile.

  
The halls were almost mercifully empty as he navigated them.

  
There were quite a few storage rooms at the Sanctuary, filled with a mixture of stolen goods and nonperishable supplies, but the biggest and most frequently used was the one Kennedy was looking for.

  
Within his first week at the Sanctuary Kennedy had gone through the storage room in search of his things, not to escape, but just in case. Last he’d checked his bag and clothes were shoved into a plastic storage container on one of the bottom shelves labeled K-G. He _hoped_ it was still there.

  
“Hey, Ken!” Justin called from his post by the storage room door.

  
Kennedy offered him a wide smile that Justin returned.

  
“Hey, Justin. I need to get a few of my old things out do you mind?”

  
“I thought you weren’t supposed to leave your room while Negan was gone.” There was an air of concern to his voice, fear that Kennedy would ask him to help break the rules again.

  
Kennedy laughed. “House arrest was lifted the other day.”

  
“Seriously?”

  
“Yep, I just wanted to go in and get some of my old clothes out, I was thinking of giving them away, they won’t do anyone any good locked in there.”

  
Justin just smiled and nodded, unlocking the door and holding it open for Kennedy.

  
Kennedy thanked him and held a smile on his face until the door banged shut behind him, then he set to work.

  
It didn’t take long to find his things amongst the shelves and plastic containers, it was exactly where he’d last seen it. On the bottom shelf by the far wall.

  
Kennedy hurriedly removed it from the shelf and opened it up.

  
He couldn’t contain his sigh of relief that came out a bit closer to a sob at the sight of his things.

  
It was happening. He was actually leaving.

  
As quickly as he could without making too much noise, he rummaged through his bag, checking to see if everything was really there.

  
His old ruined clothes, his old switchblade that originally belonged to Daryl, his revolver with two missing bullets, an almost empty first aid kit, and Glenn’s old baseball hat.

Once he was sure nothing was missing he removed his clean clothes and put on his bloody ones, they were smelly and stiff where blood had dried on them but they were better than the ones Negan gave him.

  
Throwing his purple backpack over his shoulder, Kennedy headed to the back of the storage room where a door helpfullylabeled _EXIT_ sat. If you tried to come in from the outside the door would refuse to open however nobody bothered to make sure it did the same from the inside.

  
Kenny shoved the door open and walked out into fresh air.

  
Norah was already by the fence watching Kennedy carefully. “You’re serious?” She asked.

  
Kennedy nodded, moving to meet her by the fence.

  
It was the same place that Kennedy had tried to help them escape through before. Zip ties now held the section of fence that Norah and Mike had cut together.

  
Negan hadn’t bothered to up security because he’d assumed killing Mike had been warning enough.

  
No guards watched this fence.

  
Walkers snarled from the other side of the fence, their rotting fingers reaching hungrily through the holes towards Kennedy and Norah.

  
Kennedy sighed, looking out across the expansive of walkers. “I get it if you can’t I just- I thought I should give you another chance to get out of this place.”

  
Norah was quiet as she looked across the expanse of concrete to the tree line.

  
“I-“ Kennedy swallowed. “I’m _sorry_ about Mike, Norah. I really am, I didn’t want or mean for anything to happen to you two. When I said I’d help you get out back then I meant it, I’m just... I’m just sorry I didn’t work the first time. Mike seemed like a really nice guy.”

  
Norah’s eyes were watery but she smiled anyway. “He was.”

  
“You were right before when you told me we can’t stay here, when you said it was fucked up. It is and- I should’ve realized that sooner.” Kennedy reached into his bag and pulled out Daryl’s old switchblade and held it out, an offering.

  
Something in Norah’s eyes hardened. Resolve, Kennedy realized.

  
She took the knife. “We’re leaving.”

  
“I don’t think so,” a drawling voice replied.

  
Kennedy and Norah spun around.

  
At the front of the concrete platform that led to the door stood Justin and Tom. Justin looked desperate. Tom looked ecstatic.

  
“I always knew you were a traitorous piece of shit,” he called.

  
Kennedy slowly reached into his bag. “A traitorous piece of shit that you’ve been trying to rape for how long now?” He couldn’t keep the fury from his voice, the frustration.

  
Justin’s eyes widened he looked at Tom. “Is that true?”

  
Tom scoffed. “It’s not rape if you’re fucking a slut.”

  
Norah stiffened.

  
Kennedy felt his hand wrap around the handle of his revolver.

  
Tom hadn’t even bothered to reach for his gun.

  
Justin looked positively horrified. “That’s- _that’s_ why you're leaving?” He asked Kennedy.

  
“I’m leaving because I’m tired of trying to please a bunch of murderous psychopaths,” Kennedy couldn’t help the way his voice shook as he said it.

  
“You’re weak,” Tom spat. “You’re lucky to have the position that you have, both of you. You chose this and as soon as you realized that you can’t get every little thing you wanted you decided to bail.”

  
Kennedy’d had enough, he lifted the gun and pointed it at Tom.

  
Tom’s eyes widened momentarily in surprise but then they went back to normal and he burst into laughter. “Oh, that’s _fucking hilarious_.”

  
Justin slowly raised his hands in surrender.

  
Tom laughed at that too. “Don t be afraid of that _prick_ , Justin. He hasn’t got the balls to do it.”

  
Kennedy pulled back the hammer.

  
Tom gave Kennedy an unimpressed look. “Alright then,” He singsonged. “ _Do it._ ”

  
Kennedy was suddenly reminded of Bobby from the train. His amused grin as he’d said: _“You won’t do it.”_

  
Kennedy pulled the trigger, twice.

  
The first bullet hit Tom in the chest, the second hit him in the neck. He collapsed to the ground, blood flowing easily from his wounds.

  
Justin looked pale as he watched Tom’s body fall.

  
Kennedy moved the gun so it was aimed at him. “You were too late... say it.”

  
Justin was too shocked to say anything at first, his mouth hung open as though he was trying to say something but couldn’t.

  
“ _Justin_ ,” Kennedy couldn’t keep the desperation out of his voice. “ _You were too late._ ”

  
Justin swallowed thickly then nodded once then twice. “I was too late. When I got here he was already dead and they were nowhere to be seen. I don’t know where they got the gun.”

  
Kennedy nodded gratefully the said to Norah; “cut the zip ties.”

  
“What about the dead?” Her voice was shaky too but there was understanding in her eyes.

  
“We push through.”

  
Norah nodded determinedly.

  
They would get through, _no matter what._

 

Kennedy lost track of how many walkers they killed on their way through but he knew it was in the dozens. Their snarling faces in various stages of decay were seared into his brain. There was so many of them that Kennedy began to think that Negan’s men would get to them before they made it to the trees.

  
Miraculously, Kennedy only had to fire off two shots as they pushed through. Which was lucky because any more would’ve left him out of bullets.

  
As he stabbed his butterfly knife into walker brain after walker brain Kennedy became increasingly grateful that he’d decided to bring Norah with him. He knew now that He wouldn’t have been able to make it out without her at his back.

  
The smarter move would’ve been to cover themselves in walker guts but Kennedy tried to reserve that plan for absolute life or death situations only, which he supposed this was.

  
After at least twenty walkers Kennedy saw a break in the heard, and behind them: _trees._

  
Hope was a sudden and unmistakable feeling in his chest.

  
And then they were there, running through the trees, walkers trailing behind them too slow to be of any real danger.

  
Kennedy breathed in deep, the air was so clean outside, so _fresh._

  
There was blood covering his arms but he didn’t care. He was _free._ They were free.

  
They didn’t stop running until they made it to the storage facility that Kennedy had told Norah and Mike about.

  
The building was two stories tall with too many windows to offer any of the privacy that they needed to settle down in it but Kennedy didn’t care.

  
He collapsed against one of the walls his chest heaving. “Are-are you okay?” He asked breathlessly as Norah collapsed next to him.

  
She nodded slowly and then turned to look at Kennedy with a bright smile on her face.

  
Kennedy couldn’t help but return it.

  
“We’re out,” she said.

  
“We’re out,” he agreed.

  
Her giddiness was evident on her face but it quickly melted away to grief. “I hoped he’d be here with me.”

  
Kennedy nodded, understanding. “I’m sorry.”

  
Norah just gave him a tight-lipped smile in response.

  
“What now?” He found himself asking.

  
“I... I think I need some time,” Norah said, her breathing beginning to even out. “Alone.”

  
Kennedy nodded but he couldn’t help the sting in his chest at those words. Part of him was still terrified of being out in the world alone.

  
“I hope you find your sister, Kennedy.”

  
He smiled softly and then she was walking away and each step she took chopped away a bit at his confidence.

  
But it didn’t matter. He was _out_ , he was _free,_ and he was going to find his family.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there we go.  
> Kennedy has officially left the Sanctuary! What happens next? Who knows... well... I do but..  
> Whatever,  
> I’m sorry if these last few haven’t been really good, I edit and post these at night so my judgment can be a bit impaired lol.  
> Anyway, a lot of new stuff is going to be introduced in the next chapter including *drumroll* pov switches, flashbacks (not the usual kind ;)), and other characters!!  
> Thanks for reading!!!  
> Tell me what you think in the comments! please? I need validation.  
> Kudos make me write faster?? Apparently? And comments increase the odds of a double chapter posting... or whatever you call it.


	10. On The Road Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kennedy’s brother visits him at college.  
> Later, he struggles to simultaneously manage to survive on the road again and find his family and Alexandria.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo yo yo!  
> Longest chapter yet? Maybe.  
> Here’s chapter ten for ya! I’m super excited to post this one because I’ve been working up to it for awhile now. Lots of stuff happening in this one, my pals. Lots. We get to see a bit of what Kennedy’s life was like before the apocalypse and we get our very first POV change ( I think, I honestly cannot remember if there was one before)!!!  
> ....’s indicate POV change!  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy!  
> TW for vomiting (again) and probably other stuff.

BEFORE

 

Kennedy buried his face into the silky softness of his navy sheets, light warming his face but assaulting his sleepy eyes.

  
He shouldn’t have be sleeping, he had a midterm in a few hours, hours that he should’ve been spending studying. Introduction to Abnormal Psychology. It was an interesting but tedious class. Kennedy enjoyed most of the ideas that were being taught to him immensely, however the classes were long and early in the morning. A fact which didn’t help his teetering grade. He understood the concepts he was being taught just fine, however the way the tests were worded always threw him off.

  
“Stop worrying,” came a voice from behind him. “You’ll do just fine.”

  
“It counts for a shit ton of my grade,” Kennedy replied. “If I fail then I’ll have to retake it next year and then I’ll be behind on all of my requirements.”

  
Will, his boyfriend of three months, cuddled closer to Kennedy’s back. “You’ll do better if you’re rested. Go back to sleep.”

  
Kennedy wiggled out of his grasp and turned to face him.

  
Will sighed, rubbing his sleepy green eyes. “Don’t worry about it, seriously. I failed biochem last year and I’m still graduating on time. Plus, you stay through the summers anyway, if you really need to then you can take it then.”

  
“So you agree that I’m going to fail it.”

  
“You’ll do fine, babe.”

  
Kennedy sighed then rolled onto his back, eyes closing against the light and the weight of responsibility.

  
Will nudged his shoulder playfully. “ _Hey_ , chill. Worst case scenario you’ll be graduating in the fall, it’s no big deal. Tons of people do it.”

  
“Tons of people with money,” Kennedy shot back.

  
Will frowned. “You really think you’re dad’s gonna cut you off because he thinks you’re majoring in evolutionary psychology?”

  
Kennedy sighed.

  
No, he did not think that. He did think, however that his father would cut him off if he figured out he had a boyfriend.

  
“Fine, it’s whatever. We’ll figure it out.”

  
Kennedy offered a small smile of gratitude and ran a hand through Will’s silky black hair. “Thanks, babe.”

  
There was a knock at the door. “Kenny?” Kennedy’s roommate, Forest, called. “There’s someone here to see you.”

  
Kennedy’s brows drew together. “Who?”

  
“He says he’s your brother.”

  
Kennedy bolted upright.

  
“ _Woah there_ ,” Will muttered.

  
“What does he want?”

  
At that Forest opened the door, his bright blue eyes looking nervous. “He says he needs to talk to you. Hi, Will.” He waved meekly at Will.

  
Will waved back with a small smile on his face.

  
“Did he say what it was about?”

  
Forest shook his head. “He’s in the living room.”

  
“You let him in the _house_?” Kennedy hissed.

  
“Well I wasn’t gonna leave him _outside_ with all the weird news reports that have been going on. Haven’t you heard? People have been biting other people!”

  
Kennedy didn’t watch nor read the news and didn’t care to. “I’ll be right back.” He kicked off his covers and swung his legs over the side of the bed, hurrying for the stairs, leaving both Forest and Will behind in his bedroom.

  
Kennedy had managed living in the dorms of his college for about three months until he broke down and instead took up living in the crappy two story townhouse that he called his home. From the outside the house looked like a mini suburban daydream, however the inside was ridden with dented walls, sagging ceilings, and malfunctioning electricity.

  
Once he closed the door behind him he half sprinted down the stairs and into the scrappy looking living room.

  
Shawn turned away from the hole in the wall that he’d been examining to look at Kennedy. “Hey, Kenny!” He greeted.

  
“What are you doing here?” Kennedy hissed, moving to meet his stepbrother half way.

  
“Woah there,” Shawn raised his hands in faux surrender. “Do I need an excuse to visit my baby brother at college?”

  
“It’s the middle of the day, I thought you were working for dad.”

  
“I am, and that’s the reason I’m here.”

  
Kennedy laughed but he wasn’t amused. “Don’t tell me dad wants me to work for him.”

  
“Not exactly, but he does want you to come home.”

  
Kennedy rolled his eyes but Shawn remained serious. “I _can’t_ , I have a midterm in like two hours and I have classes tomorrow.”

  
“Reschedule,” Shawn suggested as though it was that simple.

  
“I can’t reschedule my midterm. Just tell dad I’ll come over and help him with whatever he needs next weekend, I can’t today.”

  
“It’s not about getting help with the farm, Ken, it’s...” Shawn sighed, rubbing his temples. “Dad’s _worried_ , alright?”

  
Kennedy frowned. “About...me?”

  
“About all of us. Some crazy shit has been going down on the news and he’s convinced himself that the world is fucking ending so I need you to call up your professor, tell them you’re going through some personal shit, and then get my truck and come home with me to help deal with our father who I’m pretty sure is going insane.”

  
Kennedy rubbed his temples. “What about mom?”

  
Shawn shook his head. “She’s pretending like it’s totally normal, but it’s not. He even told Mags to come home.”

  
“Why haven’t you taken him to the doctor?”

  
“You think he’d agree to go? No, no, he’s going through some weird shit and he needs us looking after him, trust me. Besides, having you around would be like having our very own psychiatrist around.”

  
Kennedy rolled his eyes and sighed.

  
“Ken?” Will’s sleepy voice floated down from the top of the stairs.

  
Shawn raised an eyebrow and looked up to Kennedy’s boyfriend. He paused for a moment, clearly surprised but then he broke out into a huge grin. “Hi there, I’m Shawn, Kennedy’s brother.”

  
Kennedy elbowed his brother in the side and sent him a scathing look.

  
“Will,” Will replied simply. “Am... I interrupting something?”

  
“No, no, I was just telling Kenny that he’d have to come home with me for a few days, maybe you should come with.”

  
“ _Shawn_ ,” Kennedy hissed.

  
“Or not.”

  
“I’ll leave you two be,” Will said cautiously, backing towards Kennedy’s bedroom.

  
“Why didn’t you tell me you’re seeing someone?” Shawn asked once Will was out of earshot.

  
“You know why,” Kennedy replied.

  
Shawn frowned. “I’m not him, Ken.”

  
Kennedy sighed, rubbing his temples. “Whatever.”

  
Shawn frowned, his eyebrows furrowing. “Just- come home for a few days, help me sort this shit out and I’ll drive you back home.”

  
Once again Kennedy just sighed.

 

AFTER

 

By the time it got dark again Kennedy had settled down into a fairly nice abandoned house he’d stumbled across. It wasn’t a mansion but it was two stories of vaulted ceilings and polished hardwood floors.

  
He figured that if Negan’s men were to go out searching for him they’d likely wait till sunup but if they decided otherwise it was best for him to be off the road. Out of sight. They probably wouldn’t search every house they come across in the middle of the night. At least Kennedy hoped they wouldn’t. Either way, he had a butterfly knife, one good bullet, and a revolver which he wasn’t afraid to use.

  
No matter how much he hated stopping, he needed to. Traveling at night was hell with all of the walkers wandering the streets. He needed to gather his bearings, in truth he didn’t even know where he was. He knew he’d somehow made his way into Virginia over that month of aimless wandering but he’d be lying if he said he knew exactly where in Virginia he was. Kennedy had seen several makeshift maps in the Sanctuary covered in scouting locations and outpost locations but they hadn’t helped him understand where he was any better. He didn’t know where the hell the Sanctuary was in accordance with his own whereabouts nonetheless where _Alexandria_ was.

  
Kennedy sighed and rolled over so he faced the living rooms baby blue painted walls. The couch wasn’t the most comfortable place to sleep in the house but Kennedy wanted to sleep on the bottom floor just in case he needed to make a break for it and there weren’t any beds on the bottom floor. He could wrestle one of the upstairs mattresses down the stair but that seemed like too much work for an overnight stay.

  
Kennedy closed his eyes but sleep still eluded him.

  
He was too giddy to sleep.

  
He’d already searched the house for any useful supplies and came up empty. The house had long since been picked clean.

  
Kennedy rolled back onto his back and sighed.

  
Maggie was alive, his friends were alive, that was all that mattered. He’d find them, he’d help them dismantle the Sanctuary any way he could and if somehow Negan was still alive he’d help them dismantle him as well.

 

BEFORE

 

Kennedy sighed, throwing a few shirts into his bag.

  
He had clothes at the farm house still but he couldn’t be too careful. He wouldn’t put it above his father to throw his things out.

  
“Isn’t it a bit sudden?” Will asked from where he sat on Kennedy’s bed. “I mean, I’m not stupid, Kenny, I know you barely talk to your family anymore.”

  
Kennedy shook his head. “That doesn’t change anything. They’re still my family.”

  
“Your family that clearly hurt you in some way that you now only call them once a month.”

  
Kennedy laughed somewhat bitterly and zipped his bag shut. “It’s complicated.”

  
Will looked hurt. “And you don’t think I can handle complicated?” He asked.

  
Kennedy sighed again and made his way to where his boyfriend sat, kneeling in front of him. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just- I’ll be back in a couple of days and I’ll tell you all about it then, alright?”

  
Will cupped Kennedy’s face. “If you don’t call me when you get there I will beat your ass when you get back.”

  
Kennedy laughed and pecked him on the cheek, leaning over to whisper in his ear. “I look forward to it.”

  
Will punched his side with a grin. “Come back soon.”

  
“I will, I promise.”

 

AFTER

 

It was significantly easier, Kennedy realized, to travel when you didn’t have a hole in your leg. Walking through the streets of a tiny suburban neighborhood reminded him of his time on the road but every time one of the painful memories that accompanied the sight of the paved roads and pristine yet abandoned houses snuck up on him he made sure to thoroughly clear them from his mind. He didn’t need to trip himself up into a panic attack.

  
It didn’t help that Kennedy was starting to feel the unavoidable press of a hangover headache on his temples.

  
Too late remembered he was going to try to take some booze with him to stall withdrawals or to tide him over until he found more, he hadn’t decided yet.

  
Kennedy rubbed his temples and decidedly headed for one of the houses. He needed a map to figure out where the hell he was, or some food, or bullets, or some fucking alcohol to soothe the throbbing pain in his head.

  
The house was like a carbon copy of the others, it’s pastel coloring and semi modern interior making it look like the exact same house that he’d slept in the night before.

  
Kennedy was being louder than he liked to admit, it had been a while since he'd had to ransack a house and he had seemingly forgotten how to shut cabinets quietly.

  
In all he didn't find as much as he wanted but it'd have to do.

  
Two cans of peaches, a can of beans, and a sealed tin filled with uncooked spaghetti noodles. They wouldn't taste that great plain but at least it could be a semi warm meal.

  
The front door opened with a creak.

  
Kennedy hurriedly grabbed his gun from the counter where he’d set it and straightened just in time to point it at the figure that was now aiming his gun at him as well.

  
The man wore a long trench coat, a grey skullcap, and a white rag that covered his face.

  
"Woah there," the man said lowering his weapon and raising his hands carefully.

  
Kennedy froze, the mans voice sounded somehow familiar. He struggled to remember where he’d heard it before.

  
"It's me," the man pulled down his mask.

  
It took Kennedy a second to recognize who was standing in front of him. " _Jesus_ , right?"

  
The bearded man smiled. "You remember me."

  
"It's hard to forget a guy who goes around calling himself 'Jesus'."

  
Jesus smiled. “You were pretty drunk when we met.”

  
“I’m always ‘pretty drunk’.”

  
Jesus looked to the canned food that was stacked on the counter and frowned.

  
Kennedy followed his gaze and matched his expression.

  
"Should I shoot you?" He asked carefully, making sure the guns safety was off.

  
Jesus tilted his head quizzically his gaze finding Kennedy's. "I think my opinion on that matter might be rather biased."

  
Kennedy fought the urge to smile but lowered his gun and then gestured to the cans, sighing. "Take them if you need em, I don't, not really at least." It was a partial lie. The last time he’d eaten anything was breakfast the day before and he starting to feel a bit peckish. It didn’t matter though, he’d gone longer without food before.

  
Jesus raised an eyebrow and shook his head slowly.

  
"That’s not- I just thought there might be more in this neighborhood.” He explained. “You left the Sanctuary."

  
Kennedy nodded then tapped his shoulder where gauze was peaking through his shirt collar but didn't bother to elaborate on the wound. The wound twinged in response to the movement.

  
“I was told my sister is still alive, I'm looking for her."

  
Jesus nodded understandingly. "If you need a place to stay you can stay with us for now. I'll warn you we have some problems but we also have walls, food,” he said gesturing to Kennedy's pathetic haul.

  
Kennedy smiled softly but shook his head. "Thanks but I've gotta get to Alexandria."

  
Jesus looked confused. " _Alexandria_?"

  
"Yeah, she's supposed to be there, my sister. Also I don't want to bring anything back on you or your people, Negan is gonna be looking for me."

  
Jesus still looked confused. "What's your sisters name?" He asked cautiously.

  
Kennedy raised an eyebrow. "Maggie," he said carefully. "Maggie Greene."

  
Jesus was quiet for a long time, so long that Kennedy actually considered leaving him there.

  
"I think I know your sister." He said finally.

  
Kennedy froze.

  
"Wh-sorry, what was that?" He asked breathily.

  
Jesus opened his mouth then closed it again and then repeated himself. "I think I know your sister."

  
Kennedy couldn't bring himself to tell him that he didn't believe it. That couldn't be possible, the world was not that small. But Jesus was staring right into Kennedy's eyes when he said it. He didn't blink, didn't look away, didn't have a tell.

  
Kennedy thought of when he’d first met him, the same day he’d thought he’d seen Carl, the same day he thought he’d seen Daryl. Could it be a coincidence? Or was the prisoner that Jesus was looking to free that day one of Kennedy’s group.

  
"I don't understand." He said.

  
Could it be that he was just trying to get him to go back with him? If so why? What motivation could he possibly have for doing this?

  
"Your sister," Jesus began once again. "I think I know her."

  
When Kennedy just stared he continued. "She was married to a man named Glenn, I think her dads name was Hershel, she had another sister named Beth, ringing any bells?"

  
Kennedy was going to cry, or throw up, he wasn't quite sure yet but whatever feeling was curling and uncurling in his stomach certainly couldn't be good.

  
"How do you know that?" His voice was a whisper and he was surprised that Jesus even heard him.

  
"I know Rick's people, my group is working with them," Jesus replied. "I've known Maggie for about a month."

  
Kennedy couldn't find words.

  
Jesus was quiet for a moment as well.

  
"I'll take you to them." He said decidedly.

  
Kennedy simply nodded.

 

 

It wasn’t until Jesus stopped them for the day that Kennedy decided he wasn’t so bad. He found a small abandoned cottage a short walk away from the gravel road they’d been taking and opened Kennedy’s peaches for him.

  
“What a gentleman,” Kennedy had teased.

  
“I try,” Jesus replied.

  
Yeah, not so bad.

  
Unfortunately the cottage was in ruins so they instead chose to set up just outside of it in fear of it collapsing on top of them while they slept.

  
It wasn’t until the next morning when Kennedy woke with a pounding headache and a nauseous stomach that he remembered how _screwed_ he was.

  
He stood shakily, stumbling away from their makeshift campsite as his stomach roiled. He tumbled towards the tree line, bracing his hand on a sturdy looking pine tree and heaving the contents of his stomach onto the forest floor.

  
“Kennedy?” Jesus’s voice cut through the pounding in his head. “Are you all right?”

  
“Peachy,” said Kennedy in between gags.

  
“You sure?” He was by his side in a second, hand extended as if he had considered touching him but then thought better of it.  
Kennedy didn’t blame him. “I’m fine.” He tried and failed to spit the taste of regurgitated peaches out of his mouth. “I just- I used to drink a lot, at the Sanctuary. It’s been about a day and a half.”

  
“We’ll have to find you some of those sobriety chips.”

  
Kennedy chuckled and wiped his mouth, straightening.

  
Jesus gave him a concerned look.

  
“I’m good,” Kennedy assured him, hand still pressed to his mouth.

  
Jesus nodded, though he still looked concerned, and headed back to their campsite in front of the cottage.

  
Kennedy sighed and wiped a thin layer of sweat off his face before following him.

  
“So how long has it been? Since you’ve seen Maggie, I mean,” Jesus asked conversationally as he packed up his things.

  
“A few months?” Kennedy guessed.

  
Jesus raised an eyebrow.

  
“I’m guessing four. But I’m not sure, it’s hard to measure time like we used to nowadays.”

  
Jesus hummed in agreement. “I hear that. I remember for awhile we kept a calendar but after about three months everyone just stopped using it, they didn’t think it was worth it anymore.”

  
Kennedy remembered the calendar that Dale had kept in his RV as he gathered his own belongings.

  
“How old are you anyway?” Jesus asked as he waited for Kennedy to meet up with him.

  
“Twenty one?” Kennedy guessed.

  
Jesus chuckled. “Is that a question?”

  
“Like I said, hard to measure time like we used to. I was nineteen when everything happened.”

  
Once Kennedy caught up with him they started back down the road, gravel crunching obnoxiously underfoot.

  
“Are you hungry?” Jesus asked, once they got back to the main road.

  
Kennedy shook his head. He really didn’t want to risk it with his still queasy stomach.

  
“You sure?” Once again Jesus looked concerned.

  
“Are you always this... _helpful_?”

  
At that he laughed. “Sorry, I don’t mean to push.”

  
Kennedy just shook his head. “It’s fine,” He said. “You’re just... I’m not used to people like you, I guess.”

  
“‘ _People like me_ ’?” Jesus inquired, amused.

  
“Forget I said anything.”

  
Jesus looked curious but he didn’t press.

 

**....**

 

It was around noon when Jesus decided to make them stop for a break.

  
There weren’t any fallen trees or chairs around so they both just sat on the asphalt, facing each other so they’d be able to see if anything came out the trees on either side of the road.

  
Jesus rummaged through his bag and Kennedy finished off what little was left of his water bottle.

  
Jesus pulled a granola bar out of his bag and handed it to Kennedy. “Lunch,” He said jokingly.

  
Kennedy wrinkled his nose and shook his head. “No thanks, I’m good.”

  
“Come on, I don’t want you passing out on me now, do I?” When he still didn’t take it Jesus continued. “We’re really close too.”

  
Kennedy narrowed his eyes at Jesus, likely picking up on the trick but he didn’t argue, he simply plucked the granola bar out of his hand and tore the wrapper open.

  
Jesus tried and failed to suppress his smile.

  
“What about you?” Kennedy asked.

  
“I didn’t puke up my dinner, remember? I think I’ll wait till we get home.”

  
“True,” Kennedy said. “But you should eat too.”

  
When he didn’t reply right away Kennedy pulled the rest of the granola bar out of the packaging and split it down the middle, handing Jesus the bottom half.

  
Jesus considered refusing the food but something about the gesture warmed him so he took the piece offered to him and began to eat it.

  
As he eyed the boy Jesus was struck with the compulsive need to push his long dark curls from his eyes but was saved from any embarrassing mishaps by Kennedy doing it himself.

  
Jesus forced his gaze to the trees around them, ignoring the urge to look back.

  
It was strange seeing Kennedy now that he knew he was Maggie’s brother. He kept finding himself looking for similarities between them and coming up with none. Although they looked similar they seemed different. If that made any sense. Their hair was both dark shades of brown, their eyes were both light colored, and their faces were shaped similarly. But Kennedy’s hair was darker than Maggie’s, almost black, and where her eyes were a light green his were hazel, and Kennedy’s jaw and cheekbones were sharper, more defined, then Maggie’s. The only thing that really struck Jesus as familiar when he talked to Kennedy was his accent. It was slight, barely there anymore but still recognizable.

  
“How much further?” Kennedy asked, squinting his eyes against the sun.”You said we were close?”

  
Jesus took a bit too long to reply. “Not much further.”

  
He could tell Kennedy was still skeptical of him, it was apparent in the way he kept his hands near his gun. It was fair, he supposed, after all they both barely knew each other. Jesus was also skeptical of Kennedy’s true intentions with Maggie and the group. Although he believed him when he said he was Maggie’s brother Jesus couldn’t shake the fact that he’d been with the Saviors willingly.

  
Kennedy nodded and pushed his hair back again.

  
Once again Jesus found himself faced with an urge to do it himself again but shook the thought off.

  
“So you live with Rick and them?” Kennedy asked.

  
Jesus laughed. “No, though I imagine it would be interesting, I live at a different community, close through. Your sister has actually taken to leading it recently.”

  
At that Kennedy smiled fondly. “Of course she has.”

  
“It’ll be a bit crowded now, there’s a few different communities staying there, but they should clear out in a few days.”

  
“Community barbecue?” Kennedy quipped.

  
“Revolution,” Jesus corrected. “But hopefully we’ll get to that point eventually.”

  
The look on Kennedy’s face alone was enough to communicate his disbelief of that possibility.

  
“It _could_ happen,” Jesus insisted.

  
Kennedy scoffed. “When?”

  
“Soon,” Jesus assured him.

  
Kennedy still looked skeptical.

 

When they stumbled across the stream Kennedy was visibly relieved. “You think it’s fine to drink?” He asked.

  
Jesus eyed the water. It looked clear and there were no visible walkers or dead people upstream, but caution tugged at him. “I wouldn’t risk it,” he said.

  
Kennedy sighed and set his bag down along the shore, carefully making his way over rocks and uneven land to get to the stream. Once he reached it he kneeled down in front of it, cupping his hands against the stream but he didn’t drink the water, he simply wetted his hands and got to work at scrubbing his bloody arms clean.

  
“You know we have running water at Alexandria,” Jesus called after him.

  
“And how far away is that again?” Kennedy called back.

  
Jesus just shook his head, his eyes catching on Kennedy’s bag. As soon as he realized the opportunity that he’d been given his suspicion began to grow, as if his subconscious was telling him just to do it already.

  
“You shouldn’t just leave your things lying around,” He called to Kennedy. “Somebody might steal them.”

  
He could hear the smile in Kennedy’s voice. “That’s what your for; to keep my ‘ _things_ ’ safe.”

  
_There’s nothing there._ He told himself. _Nothing._

  
And he wanted to believe himself so badly, wanted to believe that Kennedy was telling the truth, that he wouldn’t lie. But as he stared at the purple backpack a single thought nagged at him: what if the Saviors had let him go?

 

**....**

 

The gates to Alexandria where massive compared to what Kennedy was used to. Made of least fifteen feet of metal muscle to keep the walkers at bay and steel bracers to keep them from collapsing. It was huge and intimidating and wonderful.

  
A sign sat outside the gate: _Welcome to the Alexandria Safe Zone. Mercy for the Lost, Vengeance for the plunderers._

  
"This is it?" He asked Jesus somewhat nervously.

  
Jesus seemed to sense the strain in his tone because his voice was comforting when he replied. "I'll bring them to you in no more than groups of three."

  
Kennedy wanted to tell him his concerns were misguided but he knew it wasn't entirely true.

  
He should've been excited, he should have been over the moon, but things were going too well. Part of him still thought all of it was a horribly cruel dream and right as he'd catch a glimpse of someone he knew he'd wake up in the Sanctuary with Negan sprawled out next to him.

  
"Hector," Jesus called up to the man in the lookout. "Open the gates."

  
"Who's he?" The man, Hector, called back.

  
"He's a friend. Open the gates."

  
Jesus said it so surely that Kennedy almost forgot that they'd known each other for less than a day.

  
Hector obediently gestured to someone to open the gates, a second later the massive door was rolled open with a squeal of protest.

  
Jesus lead him inside and a young girl closed the gates behind them.

  
Kennedy was instantly taken back by the houses, dozens of them each respectably spaced out from the others, small enough to not be considered mansions big enough to where Kennedy knew they could pay off his student loans and then some.

  
"Apocalyptic suburbia." He heard himself say.

  
Jesus laughed and Kennedy found himself thoroughly enjoying the sound.

  
Jesus gestured down the paved road. "It's down a ways."

  
Kennedy nodded and pushed forward nervously behind Jesus.

  
"I don't know who'll be there but it's never everyone at once."

  
"You live here?" Kennedy asked because his nerves where threatening to tear him apart.

  
"No, I'm from a place we like to call the Hilltop. It's down the road a ways."

  
Dozens of people mulled about the zone, each seemingly having something important to do, some sort of job to fulfill. Every time someone passed Kennedy had to suppress the urge to flinch.

  
Jesus put a hand on his arm and Kennedy almost jumped at the contact.

  
"Hey," he said softly. "It'll be okay, they're all going to be so excited to see you. I've heard Maggie talk about you, she misses you."

  
Kennedy didn't know how to explain that he wasn't worried about everyone's reactions to him being alive but was instead worried about how they would react when he told them where he was for the past few months so he said nothing.

  
The house was just as shockingly white and big as the others but Kennedy immediately found it daunting when Jesus came to a stop in front of it.

  
"Here we are," he said with a soft smile.

  
Kennedy didn't even try to return it as they made there way up the porch steps.

  
Jesus didn't bother to knock and instead just threw the door open and stepped inside, Kennedy following after him cautiously.

  
For a brief blissful second Kennedy thought that the house was empty until he turned to look into the living room.

  
Daryl Dixon looked almost exactly the same as the last time Kennedy had seen him, hair a bit longer and shoulders a bit broader but that was it. He sat comfortably on the wooden floor, with what looked to be a disassembled handgun strewn on the floor in front of him in the process of getting cleaned.

  
He looked up when he saw movement his eyes settling heavily on Kennedy.

  
Once again that feeling started curling and uncurling in his stomach.

  
Daryl's eyebrows drew together slightly as he blinked, seemingly surprised that Kennedy hadn't disappeared as a fragment of his imagination.

  
His gaze moved to Jesus who nodded and he let out a heavy breath through his nostrils as he looked back to Kennedy.

  
Then he stood.

  
Kennedy didn't know what he expected, maybe a punch across the jaw or a dozen questions being flung at him but Daryl simply just stomped over his disassembled gun and wrapped his arms tightly around Kennedy.

  
Shock delayed his reaction but as soon as Kennedy realized what was happening he quickly returned the embrace with an equal amount of force, after all if you were offered a hug by Daryl Dixon you did not push away.

  
Kennedy knew he was crying against Daryl's neck but he couldn't bring himself to push away and collect himself.

  
Daryl gave him a hard squeeze and Kennedy felt a few of his stitches pull painfully but he couldn't bring himself to care.

  
When they finally pulled apart after what felt like an eternity Jesus was smiling broadly and Daryl was crying as well.

  
He was sort of pacing, taking four steps to the right only to go back his eyes glued on him.

  
Kennedy took comfort in the movement, suddenly remembering how Daryl was constantly in motion.

  
"We thought you were dead," Daryl said gruffly, wiping his cheeks with his bare arms.

  
"I thought _you_ were dead." Kennedy said with a laugh that sounded a bit more like a sob.

  
Suddenly Daryl's face seemed to lighten and he looked to Jesus.

  
"Where's Maggie?" He demanded suddenly.

  
"I'll get her." Jesus volunteered and just like that he left the two of them alone.

  
Daryl looked him over once again as the front door slammed close. "What the hell happened to you?"

  
"A lot," Kennedy said, wiping the drying tears from his cheeks.

  
Daryl gave him an unimpressed look that said he wanted a better answer.

  
"I'll tell everyone later."

  
Daryl accepted that without comment.

  
A moment later a loud thumping sound signaled that someone was coming down the stairs and Kennedy turned to come face to face with Carl Grimes.

  
He froze at the base of the stairs, eye wide with shock.

  
Kennedy found himself smiling. "It's only been like five fucking months how do you already have six inches on me?"

  
Then Carl was smiling too, just as goofily as he had when he was younger.

  
"And holy hell that _hair._ "

  
Carl laughed.

  
"You're up there with Jesus on that one."

  
Carl closed the distance between them in a few long strides, wrapping his arms tightly around him.

  
Kennedy hugged him back firmly before pulling away.

  
His eyes suddenly felt watery again.

  
"What happened to your eye?" He asked, holding Carl's face in his hands.

  
"Got shot." Carl replied simply.

  
" _Again_?"

  
Carl laughed once again and Kennedy saw Daryl's mouth tilt upwards in his peripheral vision.

  
Kennedy was just adjusting himself to the sight of Daryl and Carl again when he heard the door open.

  
Turning around was instinctive.

  
Michonne began to cry the moment she saw him but she was smiling anyway, Rick stood behind her frozen him shock.

  
"Kenny," Michonne said as though she needed to say it. "Get over here."

  
He didn't need to be asked twice.

  
Michonne met him halfway, her embrace was even more fierce than Daryl's had been, by the time she pulled back she had unknowingly pulled another two of his stitches. Kennedy didn't mind though it was a painful but comforting reminder that this was real.

  
Her smile was watery but firm. "We've missed you."

  
"I've missed you too."

  
By the time Michonne pulled away Rick had seemingly come out of his shocked stupor and now stood in front of Kennedy.

  
He placed a hand heavily on Kennedy's unharmed shoulder and squeezed. "We're glad you're here, I'm glad you're here." Rick said strongly.

  
Kennedy nodded because he knew he wouldn't be able to get anything else out without breaking down.

  
"Your dad," Rick said suddenly, as though he'd just remembered. "I'm so sorry, Kennedy, I tried, I tried to help him but-"

  
"It's okay, I know... I know."

  
"Oh god," Michonne started suddenly. "Kenny, you need to know, Beth and Glenn-"

  
" _I know._ "

  
Rick's brows furrowed and he pulled away confused.

  
"Sasha told me... at the Sanctuary."

  
Confusion melted into fury but it took a moment for Kennedy to realize that it wasn't directed towards him.

  
"I'm gonna kill him." Daryl piped in fiercely. "I'm gonna kill that arrogant son of a bitch with that stupid goddamned bat of his."

  
"No, you don't understand. I... it's complicated. Let me explain, I just need to-"

  
“Alright,” Michonne cut in. “It’s alright, we’ll talk about it later. Carl, take Kennedy upstairs so he can wash up while he waits for Maggie. He’ll get you some clothes too.” She gestured disdainfully at Kennedy’s bloody clothes.

  
Kennedy smiled gratefully and then followed Carl up the stairs.

  
“You’re really alive,” Carl said as they reached the top of the stairs.

  
“So are you,” Kennedy laughed wetly.

  
“I thought I’d never see you again.” There was a slight break in his voice that made Kennedy want to cry all over again.

  
“Aren’t you so glad you are? I mean look at me; I’m gorgeous.”

  
Carl laughed. “Here,” He said once they reached a door at the end of the hallway. “Go wash up. I’ll leave some clothes on the bed.”

  
Once alone in one of the upstairs bedrooms Kennedy hurriedly pulled his old ratty first aid kit from his bag and slowly got to work at removing his clothes.

  
His shirt was covered with so much blood that it was impossible to tell exactly what came from walkers and what came from him which Kennedy for once found himself grateful for. It was clearly covered the blood that had begun to leak out of his right shoulder.

  
Kennedy cursed colorfully and pulled the remains of his broken stitches from his shoulder, throwing the sutures into the first aid kit before retrieving new ones from the box.

  
The bedroom door sung open.

  
For a brief, terrifying moment Kennedy thought that he was going to be reunited with his sister half naked with a hole in his shoulder but then Carl came into view, wide eyed and concerned.

  
“You’re hurt,” he said.

  
Kennedy sighed, gesturing for him to come in and close the door behind him. “It’s not bad. Don’t tell the others.”

  
“Did Negan do this to you?”He asked, poking at the wound.

  
“ _Ow_ ,” Kennedy chuckled.

  
“Sorry.”

  
“What was the plan there?”

  
“ _Sorry_ ,” Carl repeated, raising his hands in faux surrender.

  
“Just... don’t tell the others yet. I don’t want them to worry.”

  
“We’re already worried,” Carl replied.

  
Kennedy just gave him a soft smile. “I’m okay. Really, Carl.”

  
Carl nodded and then stood up, likely intending to leave him be but Kennedy found himself calling after him. “Sasha,” he started. “Did her plan work?”

  
Carl’s face suddenly became grim which was answer enough.

  
Kennedy sighed.

  
“We- we had him but- he got away.”

  
“And Sasha? She’s dead?”

  
Carl nodded, sadly.

  
“ _Fuck_ ,” Kennedy exclaimed simply.

  
“Yeah,” Carl agreed. “You don’t need anything at all do you? For-“ he gestured at Kennedy’s shoulder.

  
“Do you have any painkillers?”

  
“I’ll see what I can find.”

  
Kennedy didn’t know how to tell him they were for his hangover, not his stab wound. So he said nothing.

 

The Sanctuary had had showers but something about showering at Alexandria felt freeing, like it was washing the memories of the last few months away, like he was given a fresh start.

  
The pills Carl gave him help ease the pain of his pounding headache but the heavy weight that he’d felt on his mind was still there. Ever present and mocking. Not even the magical shower could wash it away.

  
Anticipation for whom he’d yet to see wound him tight, yet another thing the shower didn’t wash away.

  
So Kennedy dried off and put the clothes that Carl had brought him on. It wasn’t anything fancy, just a grey tee shirt advertising The Clash and a pair of dark unripped jeans.

  
Drying off his long hair with a towel, Kennedy stepped out of the bathroom and came face to face with his sister.

  
Kennedy froze. He couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, if he breathed everything would go away. But eventually he couldn’t help but draw in a slow breath through his teeth and Maggie remained.

  
She examined every inch of him with her eyes, her lip quivering as if she too thought he wasn’t real.

  
Kennedy’s hand felt like a cinderblock as he placed it gently on the side of her face.

  
Tears spilled down her face. “Kenny?” Her voice was enough to make him breakdown.

  
He curled into his older sisters grasp, sobbing into her shoulder.

  
Maggie held tight to him, as if she were still afraid he’d vanish. “Kenny, God, Kenny. You’re alive, you’re alive.”

  
Kennedy nodded into her shoulder, not trusting his voice to reply.

  
“Look at me, look at me, baby brother.”

  
Kennedy obeyed, slowly lifting his head from her shoulder and look his sister in the eye.

  
“God, that _hair_ ,” She thumbed his long wet locks.

  
Kennedy laughed wetly.

  
“How long has it been since you’ve had a haircut?”

  
“Six months?” Kennedy guessed.

  
“Jesus, look at you.”She cupped his face between her hands. “Oh, Kenny- Beth is-“

  
“I know, I know, I know about most of them, I think, Glenn too.”

  
Maggie’s lip wobbled once again.

  
“I’m so, so sorry, Mags.”

  
“The others told you?” She asked.

  
Kennedy let out a slow sigh.

  
There was no use in avoiding the conversation or lying. She’d figure it out eventually.

  
“No, no, uh, Sasha did.”

  
Maggie’s brows stitched together in confusion. “Sasha is dead.”

  
“I know about that too.”

  
Maggie looked infinitely confused.

  
“Maybe you should sit down,” Kennedy said gesturing at the bed.

  
Slowly, Maggie obeyed him, making sure to drag him down onto the bed with her. “What aren’t you telling me, Ken? Where have you been?”

  
Kennedy’s hands shook slightly as he worked up his resolve. “I- I was alone for awhile on the road, but then stuff happened, I got shot and I ended up at the Sanctuary.”

  
Maggie’s entire face darkened. “Are you hurt?” She asked, scanning him for visible injuries. “Did they hurt you?”

  
“I’m fine, I’m fine, it’s just...” Kennedy sighed again. “The way things work there I... if they give you something you have to give them something back and I owed, a lot. So I took up a... _job_ with them.”

  
Maggie’s voice was icy. “What are you telling me, Kenny?”

  
Tears spilled down his cheeks but Kennedy kept his face as straight as possible. “I married Negan.”

  
Maggie blinked once, then twice. Confusion took over her face and then anger; pure fury. She pulled back, pushing off the bed, putting as much space between them as possible. “ _No_...”

  
“I’m so sorry, Mags. I didn’t know, I swear I didn’t know. When he asked I- I was hurt and scared and I didn’t...” he struggled to get his words out. “ _I didn’t want to die_.”

  
The second time Kennedy tried to commit suicide his father broke down, insisting that he spend a month or more in a rehab facility or he wouldn’t pay for Kennedy’s college tuition. Kennedy had agreed and thus began one of the worst months of his life. He was sure he wouldn’t have minded it if he’d actually had any motivation to recover at that time but he hadn’t and he didn’t.

  
“I’ll kill him,” Maggie said, pacing.

  
The pure resolve in her voice was enough to make Kennedy flinch.

  
Maggie caught this and just like that her anger melted into regret. “I’m not mad at you, Kennedy,” she insisted. “I could never be mad at you for what _he’s_ done.”

  
Kennedy nodded but his hands still shook.

  
Maggie knelt in front of him, taking his shaky palms into her own. “Did he- did he _touch_ you?”

  
Kennedy couldn’t look her in the eye, couldn’t even look at her face.

  
Tears streamed down his sisters face. “I’m so sorry, Kenny. I’m so, _so_ sorry.”

  
“It wasn’t your fault; it wasn’t your decision.”

  
Maggie sighed and rubbed his arm gently. “I love you,” Her voice shook as she said it.

  
Kennedy smiled, tears leaving trails down his cheeks. “I love you too.”

 

BEFORE

 

Kennedy sighed as the small towns of the Georgian countryside melted away into infinite fields of crops and livestock.

  
Anxiety and nostalgia fought violently for dominance in his chest.

  
The last time he’d been home was when he left for his freshman year, it wasn’t that he necessarily didn’t _want_ to return, it was that he was fairly certain his _father_ didn’t want him to return. He couldn’t help the fact that being called back after so long made his heart stutter.

  
“We’re almost there,” Shawn announced as they pulled onto a long gravel driveway.

  
It was an unnecessary reminder, Kennedy knew where they were. He’d know those beautiful rolling green hills anywhere.

  
The gate was open when Shawn’s old pickup truck passed it, likely open for the other guests he’d mentioned.

  
Kennedy’s heart stuttered as the farm house came into view, it was accompanied by the livestock barn and the hay barn but the house, white and tall, stood out among them.

  
As they drew near his scars began to itch.

  
Gravel crunched under the pickups wheels as they slowed to a stop.

  
Kennedy attempted, and failed, to steady his breathing.

  
Shawn unbuckled his seatbelt and sent Kennedy a searching look. “Ready?”

 

AFTER

 

**....**

  
Maggie watched her brother sleep.

  
It was something she’d done a lot when he was a baby. Time after time her mother, her _real_ mother, had caught her in her brothers nursery watching him nap. He’d looked so peaceful when he slept, innocent.

  
She’d stopped when she got older, as she became more preoccupied with boys and rebelling against her father and stepmother. But she’d started it again when he’d turned fourteen after Beth had found him laying in a pool of his own blood. Ever since he’d gotten this tight look on his face while he slept, like he was sad or concerned. It was gone now but there was something else there now, something different.

  
Maggie pushed one of his long strands of hair out of his face, tucking it behind his ear.

  
He didn’t stir.

  
_I wonder if Negan watched him while he slept too._

  
The thought was enough to make her shake with anger again.

  
First he took Glenn and now he was trying to take her little brother too? She wouldn’t let it happen. No matter how hard he tried she would not let him take Kennedy.

  
Unconsciously, Kennedy nuzzled further into the pillow.

  
Something twisted in Maggie’s chest, a feeling similar to what she’d felt when she watched him sleep as a baby. Love maybe? Affection?

  
No, she knew what it was.

  
_Protectiveness._

  
A knock came from the door, soft, unobtrusive.

  
Maggie knew who it was before she called to it. “Come in.” Quiet, as to not wake Kennedy.

  
Jesus opened the door but lingered at the doorway, clearly not trying to intrude on Maggie’s time with her brother. “I just... wanted to see if you were alright.” He looked to Kennedy’s sleeping form and then back to Maggie. “Both of you.”

  
Maggie was surprised by the amused smile that spread on her face. “Did you?” She asked with a raised brow.

  
Jesus shook his head, chuckling softly, but Maggie could see a twinge of pink on his cheeks.

  
Maggie’s amused smile twisted into a grin but it soon faded as she realized she had yet to thank him yet. “Jesus.”

  
Jesus raised a brow.

  
“ _Thank you_.” She put as much emotion into those words as she could manage without getting teary eyed, she wanted to know exactly how much it meant to her, how much she owed him.

  
Jesus shrugged with a small smile. “I did what anyone would’ve done. I’m just glad he’s okay.”

  
Maggie looked to her sleeping brother then back to Jesus. “How’d you know he was my brother?”

  
“He said he was going to Alexandria to look for his sister, I asked who she was and he said you.”

  
“But... how’d you end up talking to him? I mean, Rick said we weren’t bringing people in right now, so why’d you talk to him?”

  
“I- I’d met him before,” Jesus admitted. “When Sasha sent me to figure out where the Sanctuary was, I met him there but I didn’t know who he was at the time.”

  
Maggie nodded, looking back to her brother. “And... how did he seem there?”

  
Jesus looked to Kennedy’s sleeping form. Something passed over his face but it was gone as quickly as it had arrived. “He seemed... _upset_.”

  
“Upset how?”

  
“Well...” Jesus sighed. “He was drunk.”

  
Maggie blinked, once then twice. “He was _drunk_?” She had to fight to keep her voice down.

  
_Shit._

  
Jesus frowned, then nodded. “He is an... _adult_ , right?” He seemed nervous.

  
“Yeah, just,” she sighed. “He’s an adult with a family history of alcoholism.”

  
“Oh.” He seemed to relax a bit.

  
Maggie grinned again, she couldn’t help herself. “Why do you want to know if he’s an ‘ _adult_ ’?”

  
“Because I’m concerned for his wellbeing, because he’s your brother,” he said it confidently but once again his cheeks were pink.

  
“Don’t worry,” Maggie drawled. “I’m not pushing.”

  
“ _Yet_.”

  
The sound of Kennedy’s sleepy voice made her jump a bit.

  
Jesus’s cheeks turned downright red as Kennedy shifted to look at him, eyes tired but slightly amused.

  
“Hello, again.”

  
Jesus managed a polite smile. “Hi.”

  
Maggie grinned.

  
_This is going to be fun._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)  
> So that was chapter ten! What’d you think of Maggie and Ken’s reunion? We got to see Kenny interact with some of the group, we got to see Kennedy interact with Jesus some ;)  
> I’ve gotta tell you it was really weird writing “Jesus” in this but it feels even weirder calling him “Paul”.  
> Anyway, I’ve got the next chapter written already but I don’t want to post it quite yet. As the show isn’t currently running and I don’t have any new content to write about, I don’t want to upload everything I have and then have to wait several months in between posting just because I don’t have any canonical content to write off of. So I’ll be trying to stick to my chapter a month schedule as much as possible. But you may be getting an extra treat here and there.  
> I was also wondering what you’d like to see between Kennedy and Jesus. I have a lot of the development of their relationship planned if not already written but I was curious what you as the readers of this fic are interested in seeing. Fluff? Angst? Smut? All of the above? Something more specific? Comment below!  
> Their relationship is still going to be slow burn though so don’t expect to see anything right away but I’ll include what I can in the next few chapters.  
> Update on the AFTG Big Bang! Unfortunately I had to drop out of the Big Bang this year. Between my schoolwork, this fic, and some other personal issues I was having some difficulty keeping up with the dates. I will still be posting what little I have written for it eventually but it won’t be connected to the Big Bang. Hopefully I’ll be able to participate next year and I look forward to seeing all the amazing fics and fan art that come out of it.  
> Kudos improve my sleep schedule and comments bring me inner peace.


	11. The Hair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kennedy finds difficulty in adjusting to life back on the farm. Later, Kennedy struggles to adapt to life at Alexandria.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ayyyyyyyyyy how’s it goin?  
> I was gonna wait to post this till tomorrow but then I realized I probably wouldn’t get the chance to do it until Monday if I put it off any longer and I’m tired of this chapter just sitting in my storage waiting to be posted.  
> This is a pretty short one but that’s good because it means I can have an excuse to post it in between the posting dates that I gave myself.  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy!  
> Quick TW for vomiting (again)

 

BEFORE

 

The smell of the farm was an uncomfortable mixture of freshly mown grass, manure, hay, and the indescribable heavy scent that seemed to only show itself on hot days. It smelled like his childhood, it smelled like years of working the fields and tending to the horses, it smelled tragically like home. Because this was no longer Kennedy’s home.  
But it felt a lot like it as his little sister threw her arms around his shoulders as he stepped out of Shawn’s old pickup truck.

  
“Kenny!” She squealed. “I haven’t seen you in forever!” Her accent was infinitely stronger than his.

  
Kennedy just wrapped his arms back around Beth and nuzzled his face into her hair. She smelled like strawberries and mint.

  
“I missed you,” she whispered.

  
“I missed you too,” he whispered back.

  
“Okay, Okay, we get it she’s your favorite.”

  
At the sound of the voice, Kennedy pulled away from Beth and grinned.

  
Maggie’s hair was shorter than he remembered it but it wasn’t a surprise, Kennedy couldn’t even remember the last time he’d actually seen his older sister. Most conversations between them had been over a shotty telephone connection once every two months.

  
“Hey, Mags,” Kennedy called, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “How was prison?”

  
“Ha! I was in a holding cell for like an hour, dumbass.”

  
“And I see that hour has turned you into a hardened criminal. Using that language in front of our innocent baby sister?”

  
“Not that innocent,” Maggie said with a grin.

  
Beth blushed.

  
Kennedy shook his head rapidly. “Nope, nope, no, I don’t want to know.”

  
“Did that asshole touch you?” Shawn cut in, looking at Beth.

  
Maggie just laughed.

  
Beth’s face turned a darker shade of red. “ _Shawn_ ,” she hissed.

  
Behind Maggie, the front screen door opened.

  
Kennedy straightened and gritted his teeth before forcing himself to say; “Hey, dad.”

 

AFTER

 

When Kennedy awoke again it was morning, the curtains kept out a decent amount of sunlight but not enough to where it was avoidable. An exhausted feeling had settled into his chest after his conversation with his sister and even his full night of sleep hadn’t wiped that feeling away.

  
Kennedy sighed and turned onto his back, his eyelids felt heavy still but he wasn’t going to stay in bed all day. He wouldn’t let himself fall into that routine again.

  
He sat up slightly, inspecting the room he’d been put in.

  
Its walls were painted white and several mismatched pieces of artwork hung on them, across from the bed was a shuttered door to the closet and right next to it was the door to the bathroom, the furniture was made up of a nightstand, a rocking chair, and a bed that he was beginning to realize was made up of multiple foam mattress toppers.

  
Maggie was no longer there.

  
Kennedy sighed and slowly pushed off the bed. His movement was met with a wave of nausea that prompted him to rush to the bathroom and empty the contents of his stomach into the toilet. He only felt slightly better when he finished.

  
Pushing, clumsily away from the toilet, Kennedy flushed his puke and sauntered to the sink to brush the taste from his mouth. The taste of his mint toothpaste was a welcome one after about two days without brushing his teeth.

  
A soft knock echoed through the bedroom.

  
Drying his face, Kennedy opened the door.

  
Carl stood at the door with a smile on his face.

  
It took Kennedy a moment to recognize the bundle in his arms. “Precious!” He squealed.

  
Carl handed Judith over to him. “She kept on walking by your room after I let her out of her crib this morning, I think she remembers you.”

  
Judith blinked up at Kennedy with her gorgeous blue eyes. “She looks like you.”

  
Carl grinned.

  
Judith babbled somewhat intelligently.

  
“When everything at the prison went down I’d figured the worst.”

  
“So did we,” Carl said. “But we found her, found each other.”

  
Kennedy smiled but it must’ve looked a bit sad because Carl frowned at the sight of it.

  
“We should’ve looked around for you more. But Glenn said he was with you and that there were explosions and-“

  
“Carl, you don’t have to explain. I understand. I’m not mad.”

  
Carl looked at the wooden floors and nodded.

  
“Hey,” Kennedy bumped hips with him, making sure he was supporting Judith while doing so. “Buck up, kiddo. You have the honor of seeing my beautiful face again, you should never be sad again.”

  
Carl chuckled and rolled his eyes. “Can you feed her? I need to take a shower.”

  
“Yeah, I’ve got it.”

  
Carl sent him a grateful smile and disappeared down the hallway.

  
Kennedy sighed and headed for the stairs. “You’re heavier than I remember, y’know that?”

  
Judith drooled on his shirt.

  
“That’s fair.”

  
The bottom floor seemed to be about as empty as the top one until Kennedy rounded the corner to the kitchen. He had to blink a couple of times to believe what he was seeing.

  
Carol barely spared him a second glass as she hurried around the kitchen. “Kennedy, so good for you to finally join us.”

  
“Carol- I- I thought... they didn’t tell me that-“

  
“You don’t have to act so surprised,” she said sourly.

  
“ _Pleasantly_ surprised,” Kennedy amended. “Nobody told me you were here.”

  
She wore jeans, a long-sleeved shirt, and what looked like... armor?

  
A timer went off and she hurried to the oven with a mitt on.

  
“What are you doing?” He asked finally, as she pulled what looked to be a bread pan from the oven.

  
“I made you a cake,” she replied.

  
Kennedy blinked.

  
“The others told me you were back and I- I wanted for you to feel welcome.”

  
“I- thank you,” Kennedy stuttered.

  
Carol nodded.

  
Judith, realizing Kennedy was beginning to forget his mission to find her food, let out a whimper and poked out her bottom lip at him.

  
“We have Cheerios,” Carol supplied, pointing to a cupboard.

  
Kennedy nodded thankfully and retrieved them for Judith, pouring a bit onto her high chair table and then placing her in it.

  
Judith fisted the cereal in her clumsy palms and shoved the food into her mouth messily.

  
Kennedy smiled.

  
“Maggie told the others why you were at the Sanctuary,” Carol said, eyeing him carefully.

  
Kennedy stopped smiling.

  
“It’s just a warning.”

  
Kennedy sighed, carefully averting his gaze.

  
Part of him was happy he wouldn’t have to tell them himself, another part of him wanted to be the one to control the narrative.

  
“They weren’t mad, at least not at you. They just... they wanted him dead before, they want him dead even more now.”

  
“You need to understand that I chose it, despite- despite how... awful it was I did choose it. It wasn’t- they didn’t _make_ me-“

  
“It’s okay, Kenny, I understand.”

  
Kennedy sighed and ran his hand over his face then through his hair.

  
Suddenly he was exhausted all over again. He desperately wanted to crawl back into bed but he wasn’t going to let himself fall back into that pattern. The pattern of getting up only to go back to bed. Once he’d start he wouldn’t be able to stop and he wanted to be better. For the group, for Maggie.

  
Carol seemed to sense that the subject was draining him so she swiftly moved onto updating him on recent events.

  
They were currently working with two groups against Negan, there had been another but they’d betrayed them and took up arms with the Saviors. Maggie was currently leading one of the groups, the Hilltop, and a man named Ezekiel was leading the other, the Kingdom. They were working on a plan to take down Negan and the Saviors, together.

  
“Maybe you could help,” Carol said. “I’m sure you know some useful information.”

  
She was offering him a task, something to keep him busy, something to keep his mind occupied.

  
Kennedy tried and failed to smile at her. “I can try.”

  
Carol just gave him a tight-lipped smile. It was as much encouragement as he was going to get from her.

  
Judith babbled around her food.

  
“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Kennedy chastised.

  
At that Carol’s mouth twisted into an amused smile, she brought him a bowl and some milk (actual fresh milk!) and pointed to the cereal. “You’re skinny, eat.”

  
Kennedy eyed the milk suspiciously.

  
It was in a plastic pitcher, it looked fine and smelled fine but... _still_.

  
“It’s from the Hilltop,” Carol explained. “They’ve got cows. Now eat.”

  
Kennedy obediently, if a little bit hesitantly, poured himself a bowl of cereal and ate.

  
The Cheerios were stale but the milk was good.

  
They descend into a comfortable silence, Carol finishing off his cake and Kennedy and Judith eating their Cheerios.

  
It was interrupted by the front door banging open.

  
“It’s not just the Saviors, we need to start thinking long term too,” Maggie was saying. “We need to stock up on food, medical supplies, and weapons too if we can find them, but the basic supplies are a priority.”

  
“I can go out again,” Jesus’s replied.

  
Maggie laughed.

  
There was a pause.

  
“You can’t be serious. Paul, you _just_ went out there.”

  
Kennedy’s brows drew together and he looked questioningly to Carol. _‘Paul?’_ He mouthed.

  
The corners of her mouth tilted upward.

  
“And I didn’t find much,” Jesus said.

  
“You _found_ my brother,” Maggie shot back.

  
Jesus ignored that. “I need to go further out.”

  
They had rounded the corner and stopped talking when they saw who occupied the kitchen.

  
Jesus stiffened ever so slightly but Maggie just smiled and made her way to her brother, kissing him on the cheek.

  
“Ew,” Kennedy wiped at his wet cheek.

  
“You’re up.”

  
Kennedy pointed his spoon at Judith. “Someone was hungry.” He shifted his spoon to Carol. “And someone else said we had milk.”

  
Maggie seemed to ignore all of this and leaned against the table. “Did you sleep alright?”

  
Kennedy knew why she was asking so he just shrugged.

  
Maggie frowned. “You should eat more, your skinny.”

  
Kennedy rolled his eyes. “I am perfectly fine thank you very much. Is this the peer pressure those assholes in assembly always warned me about?”

  
“Kenny.”

  
“You both should eat more,” Carol cut in. “Especially you, Maggie.”

  
Kennedy frowned, confused.

  
Maggie looked uncomfortable.

  
Carol froze, pausing her icing of the cake. “Holy- have you not told him yet?”

  
“Told me what?”

  
Maggie opened her mouth then closed it again. “Can you two leave me and my brother to talk?”

  
Jesus obediently left right away, looking relieved to have an escape from the seemingly awkward conversation that was about to go down.

  
Carol took her time, finishing off icing the cake before exiting.

  
The room was silent save for Judith’s incoherent noises.

  
“Mags?” Kennedy asked finally, hating the silence.

  
“I’m pregnant,” Maggie blurted.

  
Kennedy blinked, once, and then twice.

  
Oh.

  
_Oh._

  
“I- I didn’t know how to tell you, I just- I didn’t want you to...”

  
She didn’t want him to get upset.

  
_Oh._

  
The full force of it hit him like a blow. Glenn was dead. Negan had killed him and Maggie was pregnant and Kennedy could’ve killed him and-

  
Kennedy pasted a huge smile on his face even though he couldn’t really feel it. “Congratulations!” He said. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me sooner.” He wrapped his arms delicately around his sister.

  
Maggie hugged him back. “I just didn’t know how to tell you,” she repeated.

  
Kennedy shook his head against her shoulder. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

 

BEFORE

 

Hershel Greene spared his son a slow glance before turning back into the house without so much as a hello.

  
The eyes of Kennedy’s siblings on him suddenly became unbearable. He knew if he stayed there much longer that they’d likely try to comfort him somehow so he instead just headed straight for the house.

  
The screen door creaked as he opened it, its hinges were perpetually rusty. Just as the floorboards were perpetually creaky.

  
The inside of the house smelled like pine oil and cookies and it looked exactly the same as when he’d last seen it.

  
His father had since disappeared into the depths of the house, likely trying to avoid conversation.

  
Kennedy didn’t mind, he didn’t particularly want to speak with Hershel either.

  
He followed the quiet clinking sounds of dishes knocking together to the kitchen where his stepmother was positioned in front of the sink.

  
By the looks of it, she had made at least three batches of cookies, one batch had ‘ _Welcome home Maggie’_ written in green frosting and another had ‘ _Welcome back Kennedy’_.

  
Not welcome home, of course not.

  
Kennedy snuck up behind Annette and placed a careful kiss on her cheek.

  
Annette yelped and turned to face Kennedy. “ _Kenny_ , hon, don’t scare me like that.”

  
“Sorry, mom.”

  
Annette grinned, she never got tired of hearing her stepchildren calling her mother.

  
“Even with Shawn we aren’t going to be able to eat all of those.” Kennedy gestured to the cookies.

  
“We’re having guests over.”

  
Kennedy raised an eyebrow.

  
“Your father insisted.”

  
Kennedy frowned but didn’t say anything.

  
Annette waved madly as Shawn entered the room and swiped one of the cookies off the cooling tray. “They’re hot and they aren’t for you.”

  
Shawn made a face as he bit into the cookie. “It’s hot.”

  
“That’s what she just said, dumbass.”

  
“Language,” Annette chastised, but she was smiling.

  
Maggie sauntered a minute later. “I think Otis and Patricia just drove up.”

  
Annette hummed in response. “Can you greet them? I need to head out to the store.”

  
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Hershel said, slipping through the kitchen doorway. “It’s dangerous out there.”

  
Annette gave her husband a gentle smile. “Don’t worry about me, sweetie. I’ll be back in an hour.”

  
Hershel frowned, looking uncertain.

  
Shawn gave Kennedy a pointed look.

 

AFTER

 

The sun had started to go down, turning the sky into a bright watercolor painting of orange and blue and purple.

  
Kennedy was alone in the house, Maggie and Carol had gone to help with planning and Carl had gone to help with inventory.

  
Kennedy was left with Judith. He didn’t mind, he was good with toddlers and being around her reminded him that there could still be light in the world. But he couldn’t help but feel a bit useless. Everyone was working towards taking Negan down and Kennedy had frighteningly little to offer the group considering his months with the Saviors.

  
Rick had even come by a few hours previous to gather information from Kennedy. However most of what he had to offer the group already knew.

  
Kennedy pushed his hair out of his eyes and offered Judith an orange slice which she took greedily.

  
A single curled strand of hair fell back into his face.

  
Annoyed, Kennedy ran his hand through his hair again only for it to fall back into his eyes again.

  
“I can help you with that.”

  
Kennedy jumped at the voice and spun around.

  
A young girl stood by the door, she couldn’t have been older than Carl, her long brown hair framed her pale oval face.

  
“With what?” Kennedy asked, uncomfortable at the idea of a stranger just walking into his family’s house whenever.

  
“Your hair,” the girl said as if she had just realized what she said was strange. “I did Maggie’s. I’m Enid by the way.”

  
“ _Enid_ ,” Kennedy repeated carefully. “You want to help me...with my hair?”

  
“I can cut it for you,” Enid elaborated. “I’m not a stylist or anything but I know how to use scissors.”

  
For a second Kennedy was so baffled by the offer that he couldn’t speak. A young girl just walked into his family’s home, said she cut his sisters hair and offered to do his.  
They had a stylist at the sanctuary but Kennedy hadn’t bothered to actually go to them when he’d been there, too busy drinking away his sorrows and planning his own funeral to bother getting a decent haircut.

  
“ _Sure_...” Kennedy said cautiously because he wasn’t sure what else to do.

  
Enid smiled softly and disappeared into the kitchen, returning with a chair for Kennedy to sit in.

  
“You’re a friend of Maggie’s?” He found himself asking as he took his seat.

  
Enid disappeared again but quickly returned with a pair of scissors. “A friend of the group I guess. I mean... technically- I mean- I guess you could call me Carl’s girlfriend.”

  
Kennedy couldn’t practically hear the blush on her face.

  
“I see,” he said. “And you know who I am how exactly?”

  
“Maggie used to talk about you a lot,” Enid replied, snipping at his hair.

  
“When you were cutting her hair?”

  
There was amusement in Enid’s voice. “Yeah, when I was cutting her hair.”

  
They were mostly quiet as she cut Kennedy’s hair, the only sounds breaking the quiet being Enid’s occasional command to tilt his head down.

  
Judith watched in awe as Kennedy’s hair started to pile onto the floor. She crawled over to it curiously.

  
“ _Don’t_ eat that,” Kennedy said.

  
Judith complied but still picked up the globs of hair and made a mess of the living room with it.

  
“There,” Enid said about forty minutes later. “All done.”

  
Kennedy ran a hand through his freshly cut hair, brushing some of the cut strands from his neck and shoulders. It felt even curlier now that it was short, which was to be expected, and his head felt significantly lighter without hair nearly down to his chin.

  
“There’s a mirror upstairs if you wanna look,” Enid said.

  
Kennedy smiled and shook his head. “I trust your judgment, and I need to pick this up before the others get home.”

  
“I’ll get a broom.”

 

 

When the others finally did return the sun had long since set, the living room was relatively hair free, Judith was asleep, and Kennedy had made Enid and himself spaghetti.

  
Carl was the first to enter the room; smiling at Enid as he went up to his room. The next was Rick and Michonne, Rick went straight upstairs, however, Michonne paused to tug on Kennedy’s hair before following him up. Then Maggie rounded the corner.

  
She smiled and moved to sit across from them at the table. “I forgot how curly it gets.”

  
“Uh... thanks?”

  
“It looked like it was bothering him,” Enid supplied though nobody asked. “I thought since I’m somewhat experienced in hairstyling now that I should offer to help.”

  
Maggie smiled fondly.

  
”How’d it go?” Kennedy asked after a brief pause.

  
Maggie’s smile faded a bit. “It was alright, just... it was difficult.”

  
“Maybe I can help,” Kennedy offered.

  
At that Maggie’s smile completely disappeared. “Oh, that’s alright. Really, Kenny, we’re good.”

  
Kennedy frowned but didn’t argue, he didn’t want to be fighting with his sister after being back for just a little more than a day.

  
“When?” Enid asked after a brief awkward pause.

  
“A couple of days,” Maggie replied. “No longer than a week. Rick’s got a plan, it’s a work in progress but... it’s a plan.”

  
Kennedy stood, depositing his and Enid’s cleared plates into the sink.

  
“Did you figure out what you're going to do about the workers?”

  
Maggie sighed. “Rick’s plan works around them.”

  
Enid raised a curious brow. It was question enough.

  
_What’s the plan?_

  
“Walkers,” Maggie explained.

  
Kennedy froze.

  
“We’re gonna lure a bunch of them to the Sanctuary, let the Saviors stew a bit, see how big a hole they dig into that big stash of theirs.”

  
He couldn’t help himself. “What about the wives?”

  
Maggie frowned back at him. “They made their choice.”

  
Kennedy raised a brow. “Yeah, a choice that I made too. Does that mean I deserve to be locked up with them too?”

  
_“You_ left.”

  
Kennedy scoffed. “So that makes me better than them?”

  
“ _Of course_!”

  
Kennedy paused.

  
Maggie paused.

  
Enid looked uncomfortable.

  
“Kenny I-“

  
“I’m tired,” Kennedy cut in. “I think I’ll go to bed now.”

  
“ _Kennedy_ ,” Enid started, uncertain.

  
“Thanks for the haircut,” he called as he headed for the stairs.

 

Kennedy was half asleep when Maggie showed up in his room. He didn’t say anything, just laid on the faux bed and tried to ignore her presence.

  
He didn’t want to fight with her. He hadn’t put up with three months of Savior bullshit and a month of living hell to reunite with his sister only to fuck up their semi-functional relationship for good.

  
“They could’ve left with you,” She said after a long silence.

  
And Kennedy didn’t want to fight with his sister but he couldn’t let her think he was the only good person to come out of the Sanctuary.

  
“I didn’t put a fucking ‘betray Negan’ ad on Craigslist, Mags, and even if I had they would’ve been too afraid to go. When they try to escape people die, it’s happened before.”

  
Maggie just shook her head.

  
Kennedy rolled over to face her. “If you're pissed at me for it just say so.”

  
“I told you I wasn’t.”

  
“Yeah,” He started. “And you and I both know that’s bullshit.”

  
Maggie gave him a gentle look. “You're my brother. I get why you did it, I’m not mad.”

  
Kennedy couldn’t help but laugh a bit bitterly. “Lying to me is fine, Mags, I get it, but don’t lie to yourself.”

  
Maggie blinked and her face went blank but Kennedy could see the hurt in her eyes.

  
He pushed off the bed roughly and made for the door.

 

Kennedy found Sherry’s old carton of cigarettes in the back pocket of his torn and bloodied jeans. There weren’t many left so he knew he’d have to quit eventually but he didn’t care, he was stressed.

  
_I thought you didn’t want to fight with her_. He told himself.

  
He didn’t, but he couldn’t deny the part of him deep down that had expected, even hoped, that Maggie would’ve been disgusted with him when he told her that he’d married Negan. Logically, he knew she wouldn’t have accepted it and he knew whatever anger she’d felt towards him when he’d initially told her had been since directed at Negan but he still felt as though he should be punished somehow.

  
Kennedy lit his cigarette.

  
The smoke almost made him cough when he inhaled it too quickly. It’d been a couple of days since he’d last smoked so the nicotine hit him full force, soothing his frayed nerves but not completely healing them.

  
Kennedy thumbed some flaking paint that was chipping off the porches safety rails and frowned around his smoke at his ratty shoes.

  
The converse that he’d had since the beginning of the apocalypse had worn down until a hole formed at the side, revealing his grey socks.

  
Kennedy poked at the tiny hole cautiously.

  
The hole widened ever so slightly.

  
Kennedy sighed.

  
He’d have to get new ones.

  
“I didn’t know you smoked.”

  
The voice almost made him jump, almost.

  
Kennedy plucked the cigarette from his mouth and smiled up at Jesus.

  
He stood at the end of the walkway that led up to the house, he loitered there awkwardly.

  
“Are you going to give me some speech about how it’s going to kill me?”

  
At that he seemed to relax a bit. “Well, not _now_.”

  
Kennedy couldn’t help but smile again as he scooted over slightly and patted the wood next to him.

  
Jesus joined him on the porch. “What’re you doing out here?”

  
Kennedy gestured to the cigarette. “Killing myself,” he joked.

  
“We have extra shoes y’know,” Jesus supplied, gesturing at the sad state of Kennedy’s shoes.

  
Kennedy shrugged and took another drag of his cigarette.

  
Jesus watched him do this carefully.

  
Kennedy exhaled the smoke. “What?”

  
“You cut your hair.”

  
Kennedy chuckled. “What a _fine_ observation.”

  
“It looks... nice,” Jesus commented.

  
“Does it? I was going for the ‘generally awful’ look.”

  
“I’m trying to give you a compliment.”

  
“And I appreciate your effort.”

  
Jesus smiled.

  
Kennedy took another drag to keep himself from smiling back.

  
“You know those things really are awful for you.”

  
“Uh huh.”

  
“You’re probably going to die young.”

  
“Totally.”

  
“And your lungs will turn black if you make it to thirty.”

  
“I’m looking forward to it.”

  
Jesus chuckled. “You’re insufferable.”

  
Kennedy let out the smoke. “I try.”

  
Jesus paused, seeming to consider, then reached over and plucked the cigarette out of Kennedy’s grasp.

  
Kennedy let him and watched as he stubbed it out on the lower step.

  
“Are you alright?” Jesus asked when he straightened again.

  
Kennedy gave him a long look. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  
“I don’t know,” Jesus shrugged. “You just look... tired.”

  
He was, incredibly, desperately tired. Bone deep. But he wasn’t sure he wanted to tell Jesus that.

  
“I’m fine,” he said.

  
Jesus gave him a look that said he didn’t believe him but didn’t press the matter. “How're things with Maggie going?”

  
Kennedy sighed. “Fine.”

  
Jesus seemed to understand he was approaching a sensitive topic so he backed off. “How’re you liking Alexandria?”

  
“It’s nice. I haven’t really gotten the chance to look around yet but the others seem nice too.”

  
“You’ve met the others?”

  
“Enid,” Kennedy elaborated.

  
“Ah, the hair.”

  
Kennedy managed a smile. “Yes, _the hair_.”

  
They fell into a comfortable silence, both of them looking up at the clear night sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay? So some stuff happened in that, some thaaangs (I’m so sorry). What’d you think? I’m more than happy to receive feedback from y’all.  
> Time in this show is really hard to work out so I’m just going to pretend that there was a week between where season seven left off (at least I think it’s season seven) and when season eight began. So we’ll be seeing a bit of the whole preparing for war thing.  
> I'm currently listening to Fire Flies by the Gorillaz on repeat, that isn't really relevant at all but I thought I should inform y'all that it's one hell of a bop and you should check it out.  
> The next chapter was going to be super long but I decided to split it into two parts so it won’t take me three years to edit and upload. Anyway, there’s lots of stuff coming up! Lots! Bonding between certain characters, lots of flirting between certain characters, and just a pinch of character analysis... between certain characters.  
> P. S. I’m still open to any suggestions or requests regarding Jesus and Kennedy’s relationship if you have something in mind!!  
> Kudos hydrate me and comments clear my skin.


	12. The Run Pt. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annette returns from the grocery store with a strange injury. Later, Kennedy and Jesus go on a supply run.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me a few weeks ago: I’m only gonna post once a month so I don’t run out of content to post before the show returns.  
> Me now, flying through a window and kicking my past self in the face: what’s up bitches here’s my third chapter this month!  
> Idk I’m sick.  
> Yeah, so I was gonna wait to post this but now I’m not idk why, it’s a two-parter, hope you like it.  
> TW for mentions of vomit? Idk.

 

When Kennedy awoke the next morning he barely remembered getting to bed the night before. He remembered speaking with Jesus vaguely but the dots connecting their conversation to him crawling into bed late at night were a sleepy blur. He felt as if he were hungover but he distinctly remembered a lack of alcohol in the events of the previous night, much to his disappointment.

  
Kennedy pushed himself upward and yawned.

  
He was still exhausted even though the suns position indicated it was noon. But then again he didn’t actually go to bed until late at night.

  
Throwing the covers from his legs he pushed out of bed and stumbled sleepily to the bathroom where he washed up, put on fresh clothes, and began to brush his teeth.

  
He caught a glance of his reflection in the mirror and had to do a double take.

  
He looked... _good_. Healthy. At least a lot healthier than he’d been for the last four months.

  
His face had filled out slightly already, his eyes for once didn’t have dark circles beneath them, a bit of color had graced his previously pale skin, and his newly cut hair looked clean cut compared to his longer, shaggier hair.

  
Enid has left it a bit longer on the top but short on the sides, allowing his curly bangs to cover a decent portion of his forehead but not his eyes.

  
Cautiously, Kennedy continued to brush his teeth.

  
He felt healthier too, which was likely due to the lack of booze but he was feeling sentimental so he’d blame it on his environment.

  
Kennedy spit the excess toothpaste into the sink and rinsed out his mouth and toothbrush, retreating to the bedroom.

  
He was feeling good. A bit tired and anxious but good. Better than he had in a long time.

  
Part of him, the emotionally scarred and deeply depressed part of him, considered just staying in his room all day. But he knew that was a slippery slope and that if he resorted to that he likely wouldn’t be feeling as good in a day or two.

  
So Kennedy took a deep breath, ran a hand through his still wet hair, and headed downstairs to face his sister.

 

BEFORE

 

There was quite a bit of noise downstairs when Kennedy’s mother returned from the grocery store later that evening.

  
Kennedy had been sorting through his things, deciding what he wanted to take back to school with him when he heard shouting from downstairs.

  
“I _told_ you not to go!” Hershel said, his voice strained and upset.

  
Kennedy blinked and then caught Shawn’s eye across the room, raising a brow.

  
His father rarely ever raised his voice, he never needed to, his angry tone was enough to strike fear into his children.

  
“I really don’t understand why you're making such a big deal out of it, you can stitch it up for now and then we’ll go to the hospital tomorrow to get it checked out.” Annette sounded calm.

  
Shawn stood from where he sat on his bed and headed downstairs, his brows laced together in worry.

  
“The people who get bit get _sick_ , Annette.”

  
“Oh don’t be dramatic, I’ll be fine.”

  
“Mom?” Shawn’s voice joined in. “Are you okay? _Shit_ , you’re bleeding.”

  
At that Kennedy stood up.

  
“It’s really nothing, sweetheart,” Annette assured.

  
Kennedy headed down the stairs, his socks quieting each step.

  
First, he saw his father by the door, wrinkle lined eyes creased with worry, then he saw Shawn cupping his stepmother’s bleeding arm.

  
“Mom?” Kennedy said from the base of the stairs. “Are you okay?”

  
Annette looked up at him and smiled, though it was a bit shaky. “I’m fine, sweetheart, don’t worry about me.”

  
“What happened?”

  
“Some guy at the grocery store bit her.” This came from Patricia who had poked her head out of the kitchen to say this.

  
“He _bit_ you?” Shawn asked.

  
“Poor disturbed soul, they took him to the hospital, I hope he gets help.”

  
“And they didn’t take you?” Shawn prodded.

  
Patricia made her way over to Shawn and Annette, wet washcloth in hand. “Here, for the blood.”

  
Annette hissed in pain as Shawn helped lower the washcloth onto her arm.

  
“That’s it,” Hershel interrupted. “Nobody leaves the farm.”

  
“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Annette said.

  
“I don’t care, we have what we need so we stay here.”

  
Shawn caught Kennedy’s eyes as if to say ‘ _I told you so_ ’.

  
“Mom?” Beth’s sleepy voice floated down from the top of the stairs. “What’s going on?”

  
“You aren’t to go outside the property,” Hershel said. “You don’t go out with your friends and you certainly don’t go out with that _boyfriend_ of yours.”

  
“What’d I do?”

  
“Nothing, sweetie,” Annette assured.

  
“Do you need help with that?” Kennedy asked his stepmother, gesturing to her wound.

  
Annette smiled but it was Hershel that replied. “I’ll take care of it.”

  
He refused to look at Kennedy as he said it.

  
Kennedy couldn’t help the twinge of annoyance that accompanied his father’s lack of confrontation. “Fine,” He said. “I’m going to make a call.”

  
He headed to the kitchen and the others dispersed to their bedrooms and or the living room.

  
The green phone was hung on the wall. It rattled as he picked it up and dialed Will’s phone number into it and pressed it to his ear.

  
_The number you’ve dialed is currently unavailable-_

  
Kennedy frowned and hung up, then redialed with the same results. Still frowning Kennedy hung the phone back on the wall and retreated to his room.

  
He’d try again tomorrow.

 

AFTER

 

Maggie visibly stiffened as Kennedy came down the stairs but she said nothing, simply sipping her coffee and turning her attention to her food in front of her.

  
It reminded Kennedy of his father; how he’d ignored him for years just because he didn’t know how to approach him, how to speak to him.

  
“Morning,” Jesus said politely from his spot beside Maggie.

  
The others joined in as well; offering short greetings before turning their attention back to their food.

  
The family meal consisted of Carl, Enid, Judith, Michonne, Jesus and Maggie (of course), and one woman whom Kennedy didn’t recognize, and another who looked vaguely familiar.

  
“Family breakfast?” Kennedy joked, nearing the table.

  
“It’s lunchtime,” Carl corrected.

  
Kennedy waved it off. “Basically the same thing.”

  
The woman he thought he might’ve recognized offered the barest hint of a smile, it looked somewhat nervous.

  
Michonne gestured to the empty chair next to her. “Sit, eat, you’re skinny.”

  
“You sound like her.” He pointed at Maggie.

  
“You _are_ skinny,” Maggie said finally.

  
“Like you have any room to talk,” Kennedy said. “You’re skinny _and_ pregnant.”

  
At that Enid chuckled a bit.

  
Maggie gave Kennedy a short look and the gestured to the two women he didn’t recognize. “This is Tara and that’s Rosita, Tara and Rosita this is my brother Kenny.”

  
Kennedy eyed Tara carefully. “Do I _know_ you?” He found himself asking.

  
Tara stiffened a bit.

  
“She’s a big help around her,” Maggie interrupted hurriedly. “You’ve probably seen her around Alexandria.”

  
Part of him wanted to point out that the only time he’d really ever been ‘around Alexandria’ was when Jesus first escorted him in but he didn’t. “Right,” He said instead. “You looked familiar is all.”

  
Tara shrugged and managed a weak smile. “I get that a lot. Nice to meet you.”

  
Rosita wasn’t quite as friendly. “You were with the Saviors,” She said simply.

  
Maggie and Tara stiffened and Maggie sent Rosita a scalding look.

  
The others at the table looked uncomfortable. Tara almost looked like she agreed with Rosita.

  
“Yep,” Kennedy replied, popping the p.

  
“Why’d you leave?” There was a slight air of mockery to her voice.

  
Kennedy swiped a crouton from Maggie’s salad. “Because they’re dicks.”

  
A ghost of a smile graced Rosita’s pretty face but it still seemed mocking. “True.”

  
“ _Anyway_ ,” Michonne interrupted carefully. “What’s the plan for the next couple of days?”

  
Maggie cast Kennedy a quick glance before replying. “We gather supplies for the big day, gather everyone who can fight, and we set the plan in motion.”

  
“Speaking of _supplies_...” Jesus trailed off.

  
“No.”

  
“I’ve found a place just outside of the Saviors search radius-“

  
“ _No_.”

  
“It’s big and even if it’s been picked it won’t have been picked clean-“

  
“You just went scavenging and I don’t want you going out alone with Negan’s men out there.”

  
Kennedy spoke up before he could think about it. “I’ll go with him.”

  
The table went deathly silent for a good ten seconds.

  
Then Maggie laughed but there was no humor in it. “ _No_.”

  
Kennedy raised an eyebrow.

  
“Sorry, Ken, but- I just got you back and it’s dangerous out there.”

  
His temper flared a bit at that response and Kennedy couldn’t help his annoyed response. “No, it’s fine. Negan didn’t let me scavenge either.”

  
It was petty and cruel and incredibly unfair but Kennedy was starting to get tired of the house and he was sure he’d get tired of Alexandria just as quickly and he really didn’t like the feeling of isolation from the others that was starting to settle in. Not to mention the thought that would slip into his head every once and awhile as he watched the rest of the group hurry to assist in taking Negan down.

  
_You’re useless._

  
Maggie was frozen by that comment and the rest of the table seemed shocked by it too.

  
“Really, I can stay here and do nothing all day if you want me to. It’ll be fun.” The words came out of him before he could stop them.

  
Maggie blinked and she shook her head. “Kenny-“

  
“I can help Carol cook, or help Carl take care of Judith. Except, even they are too busy helping out so I guess I’ll just stay here by myself all day. It’ll be _fun_.”

  
“Right, Maggie started, bitterness creeping into her voice. “Because your last run went _so_ well.”

  
Kennedy remembered Beth’s old boyfriend. “That wasn’t my fault and even if it had been it wouldn’t be any excuse to keep me locked up while everyone else does the heavy lifting.”

  
“I’m not keeping you ‘ _locked up_ ’, I’m keeping you safe. You just got back and I’m sure if Negan found you out there he wouldn’t be particularly kind to you,” Maggie shot back.

  
“No, he wouldn’t but I can take care of myself and if all else fails I’ll have Jesus to babysit me.”

  
“If you could take care of yourself you wouldn’t have ended up with Negan in the first place.”

  
A cruel, empty part of Kennedy wanted to laugh because after two days...

  
_There it was._

  
Maggie regretted saying it the moment she said it, he could see it in the way her face fell as soon as she realized what she’d said.

  
Jesus looked like he wanted to chime in and defended Kennedy’s honor but he ultimately kept quiet.

  
Kennedy raised an eyebrow at his sister. “‘ _Not mad_ ’, huh?”

  
“Fine,” Maggie said a bit too loudly. “You can go with Jesus.”

  
Jesus’s eyes widened.

  
Kennedy blinked.

  
He hadn’t actually expected Maggie to give in.

  
“Really?” He asked. There was a vulnerability in his voice that he would’ve preferred remained hidden but it was too late for that.

  
Maggie’s expression softened a bit. “I’m not going to force you to stay. I just-“ her lip wobbled a bit. “I just got you back.”

  
“I’m not helpless, Mags. I _can_ help out.” And once he said it he realized it was true. “I know where one of the outposts are.”

  
The memory came back to him suddenly. It had been shortly after Kennedy and Negan first ‘married’, Kenny had been sleeping when he was wakened by Simon entering the room. Simon warned Negan that Kennedy might hear but Negan was convinced he was asleep. Simon had been trying to convince Negan to give Gavin’s outpost to someone else, saying he wasn’t putting enough work into it. It was an outpost at a chemical plant.

  
Kennedy told Maggie this (though he left out the part about him being in bed).

  
“Does he give an outpost to all of his lieutenants?” Rosita asked.

  
“I think I heard that there was four of them,” Kennedy replied.

  
“Do you have any idea where it is?” Tara asked.

  
Kennedy shook his head. “Just that it was run by Gavin.”

  
“And Gavin was assigned to the Kingdom,” Jesus said. “So it must be close to it.”

  
Maggie turned to Jesus, suddenly authoritative. “Tell this to Ezekiel, if we can locate it then it’ll be his job to take it down. But come back soon." She sighed. "You and my brother are going on a run.”

 

BEFORE

 

Annette woke up with a fever the next morning.

  
Shawn and Beth tried to convince Hershel to take her to the emergency room but their father remained stubborn. He insisted that only he and Patricia were to see Annette in fear of the illness spreading. Despite his orders, Shawn snuck into their bedroom a few times to check up on her.

  
Kennedy considered calling an ambulance against his father’s wishes however when he tried the phone continued to insist every number he dialed was unavailable.

  
He couldn’t deny the fact that everything was starting to get to him.

  
Hershel watched the news every night and every night the newscaster went on and on about the strange virus that’s been spreading.

  
The newscaster's voice was always steady but there was a certain fear in her eyes that bored into Kennedy’s soul every time he passed the living room while the TV was on. It had really begun to get to him; until the TV stopped working too. Well, it worked but it wouldn’t pick up any channels. Occasionally a ‘ _technical difficulties_ ’ screen would play on a loop but other than that they were completely cut off from the world. No phone, no TV, no contact with any other people than the ones around them.

 

AFTER

 

"Your hair looks nice,” Jesus said later that day as Kennedy joined him by their car.

  
"You said that last night,” Kennedy replied, self consciously touching his hair.

  
It felt weird for it to be so short after so long but it felt nice to change.

  
"I meant it then and I mean it now,” Jesus said with a small smile. “You have everything you need?"

  
Kennedy held up his bag and Jesus nodded in approval before leading them to their old Volvo.

  
Kennedy found himself smiling as they neared the car.

  
"What?" Jesus asked, turning to look at him.

  
Kennedy shook his head. "First day alone out there I found myself sleeping in one of these, suppose it's appropriate for me to go back in one of them."

  
Jesus said, "Well you aren't alone this time."

  
Kennedy smiled again softly and nodded.

 

The drive to the store was a long one, Rick didn't want them to go to any nearby locations in fear of the Saviors catching them so the store that they were meant to search was two hours away from Alexandria.

  
Kennedy had a suspicion that he was remembering the time that the Governor took Glenn and Maggie while they were out gathering supplies.

  
"Take a left here," Kennedy supplied, a hand smoothing the map out against the dashboard.

  
Jesus turned left.

  
"How old did you say you were?” He asked suddenly.

  
Kennedy frowned at the sudden question. "Twenty-one?”He replied. “Why?"

  
Jesus shrugged.

  
Kennedy scoffed and rolled his eyes.

 

"Why?" He repeated.

  
Jesus sighed and ran a hand through his long hair. "Negan, I was, I was wondering about Negan."

  
Kennedy didn't know what made him feel worse the fact that Jesus probably thought that any mention of Negan would send him spiraling or the fact that he was probably right.

  
Kennedy sighed. "I was nineteen when everything started happening so..."

  
Jesus nodded and continued not to look at him, somehow that made him feel worse. His pity was palpable.

  
"Oh _fuck off_ ," Kennedy said irritably, pulling a knee to his chest and folding the map back up.

  
"I didn't say anything!"

  
Kennedy gave him a bored look and Jesus sighed.

  
"Listen, I don't mean to- I didn’t mean to press.”

  
Kennedy rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”

  
Jesus returned his attention to driving in silence.

  
Kennedy sighed. “Listen, I’m not opposed to questions but just don’t act so _weird_ about it, alright?”

  
“I just-“ Jesus began. “I just don’t want to upset you.”

  
Kennedy chuckled. “You tiptoeing around any subject you think might ‘ _upset_ ’ me Is going to piss me off a lot more than you just being curious.”

  
Jesus winced. “It’s not just a curiosity about your time with the Saviors, I want to know more about _you_.”

  
Kennedy couldn’t help the warm feeling that pooled in his gut at that. “ _Okay_.”

  
Jesus glanced at him questioningly.

  
Kennedy grinned and shook his head. “Eyes on the road, _Paul_.”

  
Jesus winced once again.

  
“What? It’s your name isn’t it?”

  
“Yeah, but it sounds weird when you say it,” Jesus admitted.

  
“Oh, and _Jesus_ doesn’t?”

  
At that Jesus cracked a smile. “You have some nerve for teasing me over my name, _Kennedy_.”

  
“Hey, at least that’s my given name.”

  
Jesus laughed. “How long were you there?"

  
Kennedy didn’t need to ask what he meant. “I don't know, maybe a couple of months?"

  
Jesus took a wide turn, pulling onto an overgrown bridge. "How'd you get there?"

  
"Got shot,” Kennedy supplied. “Negan's people found me, and decided I'd be useful I guess."

  
"How long were you alone for?"

  
"Almost a month, I think."

  
“That must’ve been hard for you,” He said sincerely.

  
Kennedy gave him a long look. “Yeah, didn’t do so well, did I? Only took a month to get severely injured.”

  
Jesus shook his head. “I don’t think I could do much better.”

  
Kennedy scoffed, not believing it for a second. “Okay, Jesus.”

  
Jesus smiled. “Never mind, maybe Paul is better.”

  
The rest of the ride went by in a blur of meaningless chatter and comfortable silences. By the time they pulled into the empty parking lot of their intended destination it was well into the day and the sun was but a few hours from setting.

  
"You think we’ll get back before dark?” Kennedy asked.

  
Jesus eyed the suns position as he exited the car. “Probably not.” He looked to Kennedy as he exited the vehicle as well. “I’m sure it’ll be fine though. One of the headlights is still working and the road was pretty clean, none of the dead.”

  
Kennedy nodded but nerves began pooling in his gut.

  
"You alright?” Jesus asked.

  
Kennedy shrugged and threw his bag over his unharmed shoulder. “Yeah, it’s just... been awhile since I’ve done this.”

  
“What about the houses?”

  
“That was scavenging, that was different.”

  
“I wasn’t aware that there was a difference,” Jesus said, pulling his backpack from the back seat.

  
“Says someone who spends all their time outside the walls. Of course, it wouldn’t feel like there’s a difference to you.” Kennedy sighed and pulled Glenn's old cap from his bag and placed it carefully over his head.

  
"I-“ Jesus cut himself off. “Wait- How’d you know that?”

  
Kennedy just sent him a knowing grin as he started for the store. “I’m observant.”

  
“ _Kennedy_.”

  
He rolled his eyes and looked back at his companion. “You kept on asking Maggie about this place,” he said, gesturing to the half concrete half glass building in front of them. “Right after you’d gone out and found me.”

  
At Jesus’s confused look Kennedy laughed. “No one wants to go out that much unless they have abandonment issues or a death wish.”

  
Jesus frowned, his stride finally matching Kennedy’s.

  
“So which is it? The abandonment issues or the death wish?”

  
“You’re awfully young to be a therapist,” Jesus replied teasingly.

  
“Psychologist, actually, but I never actually made it through my second year of schooling.”

  
Jesus chuckled, he thought he was joking.

  
Kennedy poked his side. “Well? The doctor’s in.”

  
“I guess...” Jesus began. “I just have trouble being around all the people.”

  
“You and me both.”

  
Jesus gave him a small sympathetic smile before handing a loaded pistol to Kennedy.

  
"I assume you know your way around one of these?"

  
Kennedy frowned at the weapon. "I already have one." He said pulling his revolver from his newly supplied (by Daryl) holster.

  
"And only one bullet in it."

  
Kennedy raised an eyebrow, trying to mask his amusement with annoyance. "How did you know that?" He asked even though he knew.

  
Jesus smiled sheepishly. "Checked on the way to Alexandria. I was curious whether it was actually loaded or not."

  
Kennedy sighed and then laughed.

  
"You could've just asked me to show you, you know?"

  
Jesus grinned back at him and shrugged.

  
So Kennedy took the gun and shoved it behind the waistband of his jeans.

  
Jesus gave him a quick nod of approval before taking out his own revolver and making his way to the broken glass doors of the shop's entrance.

  
It looked a bit worse for wear and decently ransacked but there was still a fair amount of supplies that the average person might write off as useless.

  
Kennedy claimed an abandoned cart that sat by the rows of cash registers less out of an actual need for a cart and more for the desire to pretend if only for the grim amusement it brought him to push a cart through the broken store.

  
It was strange, he thought. All of this felt so normal now, so ordinary. But if he tried he could still remember going to pick up groceries after church with Annette and sneaking a box of cookies into the cart while she wasn't looking, Beth giving him a delighted grin as he did it.

  
Kennedy sighed and rested his chin on his hand and fiddling with the safety on his gun.

  
"What?" Jesus asked, dropping a lone bottle of rubbing alcohol into the cart.

  
The store must've gotten ransacked pretty early on, no one now would've left so many medical supplies behind.

  
"It's just strange," he replied, eyeing the eerie store around them.

  
The bloody floors, the water damaged roof, the broken shelves.

  
Jesus hummed his agreement, staring cautiously at a body that came into view.

  
Kennedy tucked away his pistol once again and pulled out his butterfly knife as the body slowly opened its eyes and let out a low snarl.

  
Kennedy left the cart with Jesus as he stepped over the legs of the walker, shoving its arms out of the way as it made to grab for him and plunged his blade into its soft skull.

  
"Is it bad that I don't think all of this is completely horrible anymore?" Kennedy asked Jesus, roughly tugging his switchblade free of the walkers head.

  
"What do you mean?"

  
Kennedy turned back to look at him.

  
No judgment, no disgust at the comment, just curiosity.

  
"Like... this," he said gesturing to the walker. "I can't bring myself to feel bad about it, they were people once but... I can't bring myself to care. I _don't_ care. About them, about the people they used to be, the families they used to have. They're just threats to me now."

  
Jesus looked away, contemplating.

  
"Humans are adaptive beings," he said after a moment of silence. "We adapt to our situations because if we don't, we die. A point comes in every traumatic situation when we choose, whether we realize it or not, whether we're going to let something defeat us or if we're going to fight harder to get through it." Jesus looked him in the eye and gave him a soft smile. "It might feel wrong but this is just a part of that."

  
Kennedy couldn't bring himself to ask if not caring about the people that he'd killed was a part of adapting too.

  
"When everything started happening," he started instead. "My dad thought that all of them were just _sick_. That one day the government would show up out of nowhere with a cure and everything would just go back to normal. So he locked all the walkers he found into the barn and just waited for it to happen."

  
"When did he change his mind?" Jesus asked.

  
"When Rick showed up," Kennedy replied forcing back the memories of the group shooting down the reanimated corpses of his family.

  
Jesus nodded as if he'd already guessed that.

  
Kennedy sighed and wiped off his bloody knife on his jeans with a wince and deposited it in his pocket as he made his way back to the cart.

  
They spent the next few minutes in silence, the only noise coming from the soft thunk of various items in the cart. A package of bandages, a couple of cans of pears, a small package of flour that had been pushed to the back of the shelf, a couple tins of sardines...

  
Kennedy barely managed to stifle his gag at the mere sight of the cans.

  
Jesus chuckled at the face he must have made. "Not a fan of sardines?"

  
" _Are you_?" Kennedy said a bit sharply, disgust coating his tone.

  
They were fairly smart to get, anything caned was fairly smart to get but still... the sight of them brought back memories, memories of stumbling over broken roads, his bloody leg screaming at him to stop with each step, memories of peeling flakes of blood off of his skin because he didn't have a place to bathe, memories of eating anything and everything including the cold innards of a dead deer that he'd found outside an abandoned gas station, memories of throwing up the sardines that he'd found, his starved stomach lurching painfully as the slimy fish slid down his throat, then bending over and puking his guts out onto the floor, his muscles screaming, tears streaming down his face as he dry heaved once again and...

  
Kennedy couldn't suppress his gag this time.

  
"Are you alright?" Jesus asked, placing a hand gently on his shoulder, the touch would've been comforting, maybe even reassuring if Kennedy hadn't already been spiraling. No, the feel of his touch just turned heavy as Kennedy's mind turned one man into another and then it was Negan touching him, his grip demanding, his caress like a blow to the stomach.

  
Kennedy pulled back sharply, panting as he stumbled into one of the shelves that groaned under his weight.

  
"Kennedy?"

  
"I'm _fine_ ," he choked out, though he wasn't and he knew that Jesus knew he wasn't.

  
He hated this. _Hated_ it.

  
"Kennedy," Jesus repeated, lowering his head so he could catch his eye. “We can go back if you need to.”

  
Kennedy took a shaky breath.

  
"I'm fine."

  
Jesus still looked concerned but he nodded, accepting his need for space and continued down the aisle cautiously.

  
Kennedy followed behind him slowly, making sure there was a good five feet of space between them.

  
They spent another fifteen minutes in a tense silence, Jesus occasionally glancing back at Kennedy everything about him screaming concern, Kennedy pretended he didn't notice.

  
Jesus broke first.

  
"Do you know how I first met Rick and Daryl?" He asked suddenly, stopping in the middle of the aisle to turn towards Kennedy.

  
Kennedy shook his head dejectedly.

  
So Jesus retold a tale which Kennedy only half believed of how Jesus stole a truck full of supplies from the dynamic duo and eventually managed to drown said truck in a lake.

  
Part of Kennedy thought that it wasn't worth the pause in their activities but as Jesus told it he still found himself smiling.

 

**....**

 

Jesus liked Kennedy.

  
He didn't know _why_ exactly. The young man wasn't necessarily his type (if he even had a type) but still he found himself... entranced by the boy.

  
Part of him felt incredibly stupid for telling him that story that made him look a complete fool but he decided it was worth it when Kennedy smiled. _Damn_ , that was a hell of a smile.

  
It made his entire face look different his eyes, his cheeks, and holy shit were those dimples?

  
Jesus grinned back if only to hide how massively he was freaking out inside.

  
His stomach was doing cartwheels, his ears felt incredibly warm, and he just felt... nice, Kennedy made him feel _nice_.

  
He hadn't really noticed it the first couple times he saw him but seeing him reunited with Rick's group gave him a soft spot for the boy and then seeing him this morning, hair freshly cut, eyes light and somewhat happy for what looked like the first time in a long time. He was admittedly a bit weak around him. But who could blame him?

  
Kennedy was breathtakingly attractive.

  
"To think, if you and Rick hadn't been so stupid to each other we'd now have a truck of supplies to carry us through the winter," Kennedy said pushing forward again.

  
Actually, Negan would likely have those supplies if they'd managed to keep them but Jesus didn't dare to voice that correction.

  
"Yeah," he said simply, following Kennedy's slow pace through the store.

  
"How'd _you_ react when you first met Rick?"

  
Kennedy tilted his head to the side as if assessing the question.

  
"I didn't, not really. My dad and Maggie sort of did the talking for us. We never really talked."

  
Jesus frowned. "Then why do you follow him?" _So loyally when you barely even know him_ , he didn't say.

  
Kennedy shrugged. "We've been through a lot together, as a group, I don't think I could leave them behind even if I wanted to."

  
Jesus admired that, that loyalty, and he was also a bit jealous of it but that didn't matter as much.

  
They walked in silence for a bit longer but it was comfortable.

  
Their luck seemed to run out after the first four aisles because after that they couldn't seem to find anything useful.

  
Jesus pushed the cart up to what looked to be a bin of apparel made for various holidays, a trampled sale sign laid on the ground next to it.

  
"You know, my stepmom used to knit us these every winter," Kennedy said, lifting a wet Christmas sweater in front of him.

  
"Seriously?" Jesus asked if only to keep him talking.

  
"Yeah, we all hated them but dad made us wear them on Christmas to make her happy."

  
Jesus placed a pair of red heart-shaped sunglasses on his face.

  
Kennedy smiled faintly at the sight.

  
Jesus took them off and placed them on Kennedy whom to his pleasure didn't take them off right away.

  
"Did he die recently?" _Fuck_. He didn't mean to say that.

  
Kennedy instantly deflated. "No, well yes. It was a couple of months ago."

  
"Sorry, it's just... your voice changes when you talk about him." Did that give away how much attention he was paying him?

  
Kennedy raised a brow.

  
_Fuck_ , he was definitely crossing a line.

  
"No, it's not that," Kennedy started quietly, too quietly.

  
"You don't have to tell me," Jesus hurriedly said.

  
"No. No, it's fine, really. We just didn't get along that well."

  
At that, Jesus raised an eyebrow.

  
Everything he'd heard about Hershel Greene had been somewhat positive, stories of how he saved Carl's life when he'd been shot, of how he'd risked his life to help the sick, of his unwavering love for his two daughters. They hadn't ever said anything about his son, though. In fact, Jesus actually heard very little about Kennedy before he met him, he'd just known he'd existed.

  
"Really?"

  
Kennedy shrugged and threw the sunglasses back into the bin.

  
"We had very different... _interests_ ," he said vaguely.

  
“Different interests?” Jesus knew he was prying but he couldn’t help his curiosity.

  
Kennedy just shrugged so Jesus decided not to push anymore. “Sorry,” He said instead.

  
Kennedy cast him a long look. “I’m surprised Maggie hasn’t told you most of this.”

  
Jesus shrugged. “We don’t really have that kind of relationship I guess.”

  
Kennedy narrowed his eyes but said nothing, continuing forward through the store.

 

BEFORE

 

It was past midnight when Beth joined Kennedy in his too tiny twin bed, squeezing into the space between the wall and Kennedy.

  
He was already awake so the movement didn’t bother him but it was unlike her to crawl into his bed. She used to do it all the time but after the first time he attempted suicide she just stopped.

  
“What’s wrong?” He whispered, not wanting to wake Shawn from where he slept across the room.

  
“Mom’s not doing well.” He could tell from her voice she was crying. “I don’t want to tell the others.”

  
Kennedy frowned. “Tell the others what?”

  
Beth took in a shaky breath. “I think she’s dead.”

  
Kennedy bolted upright. “ _What_?” He didn’t bother to control his volume.

  
Shawn groaned from across the room. “What’s going on?”

  
“I went in to bring her some water and- and I thought she was sleeping but...” Beth sobbed. “She wasn’t breathing.”

  
Shawn flew out of his bed, his heavy footsteps echoing through the house as he headed for their parent's bedroom.

  
“Where’s dad?”

  
Kennedy felt as if he were reliving when his other mom got sick, his real mom.

  
Beth shook her head and Kennedy could only tell because the light that reflected off her blonde hair shifted just a bit.

  
“Beth, sweetie, I need you to tell me where dad is.”

  
“He-he said he’s finding medicine for her but she wasn’t breathing, Ken. She wasn’t _breathing_.”

  
“ _Mom_?” Shawn’s voice was barely loud enough to hear.

 

BEFORE

**....**

The sun was setting. They noticed as the light that reflected off the tile floors slowly went from white to orange. Outside the sky had turned purple.

  
“We should get going,” Jesus said, loading the items from their cart into his backpack.

  
“Are you sure we have enough?” Kennedy asked. “We could stay the night, explore the towns nearby in the morning.”

  
“Your sister would kill me if I kept you out longer than planned.”

  
Kennedy frowned.

  
“Besides,” Jesus began, turning to face Kennedy. “I really don’t want to be out here too long with the Saviors looking for you.”

  
Kennedy nodded, loading the remaining supplies from the cart into his backpack. Once he finished he tossed his bag over his shoulder again and headed towards the door.

  
Jesus spun back around, opening the door for Kennedy.

  
“What a gentleman,” Kennedy teased with a smile. It was the same thing he’d said when Jesus opened his canned peaches for him but Jesus still seemed charmed by it.

  
“I try,” He said.

  
Then, just as Kennedy reached the door, a shot rang out across the parking lot.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeeeeea.  
> So that was chapter twelve, I hope you liked it. I was originally going to make this one part but then it was really fucking long so I’m splitting it into two. So here’s a bit of a cliffhanger for ya.  
> I can't really remember if it was ever explicitly stated how Annette and Shawn got bit so I kinda improvised.  
> I’m sorry if Maggie is coming out a little OOC but it’s hard balancing her character on the show and what I want from her relationship with Kennedy. Because he is an original character it’s difficult to determine how certain characters would act around him because he’s not actually in the show:/ anyhow I hope it’s an acceptable change.  
> In other news I finally posted the first chapter of that AFTG fic I’d mentioned before. Check it out if you’re interested!  
> Kudos soothe my headache and comments clear my sinuses.


	13. The Run Pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shawn falls ill. Later, Kennedy finds himself fighting for both his and Jesus’s life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I’ve started a schedule for this fic (somewhat, I kinda just chose random dates on my phone's calendar that looked decently spaced out). As I mentioned before I try to post about once a month and no more or less (because I don’t want to have to go on hiatus while I wait for the show to come back on) but I don’t want to make y’all wait forever either. I’ll leave the date that the next chapter should be coming out in the notes at the bottom if you’re interested.  
> Oh yeah, who’s excited for SDCC?!?! I’m so hyped! I can’t wait to see what’s going on with the (supposed) time jump and stuff!!  
> I know there has been a lot of drama going on regarding the show recently (mainly concerning Chris Hardwick and Andrew Lincoln as well as all that stuff with Chandler Riggs) but I don’t want to let all that get in the way of my enjoyment of the show. I understand why some people are upset with it and why even some hardcore fans have stopped watching it but I’m not going to stop watching a show I’ve been following for about five years because of outside issues. I have a lot of complicated feelings because of these things and as a fan I felt a bit betrayed but I still love the show and it’s characters and I don’t think that’s going to change anytime soon. Idk why I’m putting this here but I felt I had to say it somewhere.  
> Well anyway, here’s chapter thirteen! I hope you like it and as always I apologize for any errors in spelling or grammar.  
> (a cat was sitting on me as I edited this so it may be meh)  
> TW for violence and mentions of past self-harm/suicide attempts

Kennedy barely had enough time to process that the noise had been a gunshot before Jesus was staggering beside him, clutching his bleeding side.

“ _Shit_ ,” Kennedy muttered, pushing Jesus back behind one of the checkout counters, ducking down behind the cover with him.

  
An explosion of gunshots sounded out across the parking lot, making the glass windows in the front of the store shatter into a million pieces.

  
Kennedy’s ears rang with the noise but he tried to keep his attention on Jesus whose breathing had become labored.

  
Jesus lifted a bloody hand from his left side then hurriedly put it back in place, his hand shaking as he did so.

  
Kennedy hurriedly lifted Jesus’s shirt and vest to peak at the wound.

  
It was shallow, just a graze, but Kennedy’s heart still pounded in his chest at the sight of blood pouring from his friend's side.

  
“Bad?” Jesus asked, his voice partially concerned, partially joking.

  
“Put pressure here,” Kennedy instructed, pulling the pistol Jesus gave him from his holster.

  
Jesus did as he said, hands still shaking.

  
“Stay here.”

Jesus shook his head but Kennedy was already heading for the closest shelf to the window.

  
“Kenny! _Wait!_ ” Jesus called after him.

  
Gunshots rang out again as Kennedy ran to the cover, ducking behind the shelves. He waited for the gunshots to die down a bit, their aggressors either reloading or trying to flank them, and peaked out of his cover.

  
Two bodies were behind a truck that hadn’t been there previously seemingly conversing frantically from their cover. Another man stood by a dumpster.

  
Kennedy fired at the man behind the dumpster.

  
At first, he did nothing but alert them to his presence, but on his second shot he hit the mans arm.

  
The man cried out, clutching his bloodied arm, and made a run for his friends behind the truck.

  
As soon as he fled his cover Kennedy shot him in the head.

  
The man's body fell to the ground with a sickening thump.

  
One of the men behind the truck cursed and sent some return fire at the store.

  
Kennedy hurriedly ducked back behind his cover.

  
Once the shooting died down again Kennedy came back out but he only got one shot off before he had to duck back behind his cover.

  
He cursed lowly and counted his bullets. He wasn’t good at combat, especially not this kind. He was a decent shot at close range and a mediocre one at long distance. If he could get close to them he’d have a better chance of winning but there was no cover between the store and the truck and if Kennedy stepped out from behind his shelf he’d just get a dozen holes in him for his effort.

  
Once his attackers ran out of ammo again he fired off two shots. The first broke the windshield. The second hit one of the men in the neck.

  
Kennedy heard the second man's loud curses all the way from the store.

  
The last of the men shot at him and he barely had enough time to dive back behind his cover before a hole was shot in the shelves.

  
About a dozen more shots sounded out and then they stopped.

  
Kennedy waited about fifteen seconds before peaking out from behind the shelf.

  
The man was gone.

  
Kennedy scanned over the parking lot but he could no longer see any figures.

  
Carefully, he retreated to where he’d left Jesus behind the cash registers. “I shot two of them down but I can’t find the third, I think he might’ve booked it.”

  
Jesus still was clutching his side. He looked a bit pale but still alive. “I- I forgot to take the keys out of the Volvo,” he said.

  
It took Kennedy a moment to realize what this meant before he was running out of the store in the direction of the car, barely hearing Jesus’s call behind him.

  
They’d parked a ways away from the store because they didn’t want passersby to think there was someone inside. So by the time Kennedy reached the truck the last man had just barely reached the Volvo.

  
The man must’ve heard him approaching because he spun around and fired his automatic rifle at Kennedy right before he reached the car.

  
Kennedy ducked back behind the truck only for a second before standing and firing his own gun twice.

  
Both shots hit the man in the stomach.

  
He doubled over and dropped his gun but Kennedy made sure to kick it away just in case.

  
“Kenny,” Jesus’s voice came from behind him, labored and exhausted.

  
Kennedy didn’t bother turning around, he didn’t trust the man not to have another weapon on him.

  
The man looked up at Kennedy and laughed. “ _‘Kenny_ ’? Oh boy, we’ve been looking for you.”

  
Kennedy’s heart sunk.

  
_Saviors._

  
“Negan threw a big hissy fit when he figured out you left, kept on insisting that bitch Norah made you leave. But he was _really_ pissed when he figured out you killed Tom on your way out.”

Jesus put a hand on Kennedy’s shoulder. “Let’s just go.”

  
“He almost killed Justin when he figured out you got away on his watch, beat the ever living shit out of him, I was surprised he didn’t use Lucille.”

  
Kennedy’s hand that still held the pistol shook as a slow-burning anger consumed him.

  
“Damn, I cannot wait to see what he does when he figures out you’re with Rick and the goddamn _Widow_.”

  
It took Kennedy a second to realize that he meant Maggie and when he did he lifted his gun and shot the man in the head.

  
Jesus flinched next to him as the man's blood sprayed against the driver's side door and his body slumped down onto the concrete.

  
 _You had to_. Kennedy told himself. _You_ had _to_.

  
If he didn’t kill him Negan would find out where he was and he’d come for him, he knew he would. He’d kill every last person Kennedy cared about to punish him and then lock him up someplace to fuck whenever he felt like it.

  
Kennedy wouldn’t let that happen. _Ever._

  
Jesus’s voice was quiet and shaky next to him. “You didn’t have to.”

  
Kennedy felt that like a punch to the stomach but he kept his voice steady when he replied. “I’ll stitch you up.”

 

BEFORE

 

 _Mom was sick_. That was all Hershel told them. Though Patricia looked more and more disturbed every time she went to check on her. Though for some reason when Shawn went to check on her she’d lost it and bit him.

  
Maggie said she still wasn’t right, that Patricia said they’d tied her up.

  
Beth was still traumatized from that night. “She wasn’t breathing, Ken. I _swear_ it.”

  
For some reason, Kennedy believed her.

  
“Things will get better,” Otis insisted at the dinner table a day after the incident. “They have to.”

  
Kennedy wanted to believe him but the next morning he woke to Shawn’s incoherent moans and surely enough when he touched his arm to wake him he was burning up.

 

AFTER

 

A surprisingly long gash covered Jesus’s side which made Kennedy wonder exactly how the bullet had hit him. It bled, a lot. But the wound wasn’t too deep, only deep enough to become a problem if left untreated.

  
“You’ll live,” Kennedy said.

  
“Not deep?” Jesus asked, his words were a bit sluggish. Kennedy couldn’t tell if it was due to blood loss or just plain exhaustion.

  
Kennedy pulled the small emergency first aid kit he’d packed from his backpack.

  
“ _Nah_.”

  
Kennedy pressed a finger to the wound.

  
Jesus let out a hiss of pain.

  
“Sorry,” Kennedy muttered, pulling a small container of floss from the first aid. “I don’t have any thread, this’ll have to do.”

  
Kennedy hurriedly washed out the wound with some water and then the bottle of rubbing alcohol they’d found.

  
Jesus cursed quietly at the sting.

  
Kennedy waited for his breathing to even out before he began to stitch him up.

  
When Kennedy was a boy, his father had taught him many things; how to use the rifle that he kept in his bedroom closet, how to tell if a horse was pregnant, how to properly give a cow a vaccine, but most importantly he’d taught him how to stitch up a wound. He was out of practice but after the first few sutures, his hands knew what to do.

  
“You do this a lot?” Jesus asked out of the blue.

  
“Stitch up stranger's bullet wounds in the back seat of rundown Volvo’s? No, not really.”

  
“I'm not really a stranger, am I? And you know what I mean.”

  
“No, I really don’t.”

  
Jesus let out a slow sigh and turned to look at Kennedy over his shoulder. “You seem to know what you’re doing.”

  
“My dad taught me when I was eight,” Kennedy answered his unasked question.

  
“Strange thing to teach an eight-year-old.” Jesus pointed out.

  
“I cut my knee open on a piece of scrap metal, he thought it was as good a time as any.”

  
Jesus hummed in response.

  
Kennedy hummed back.

  
They went into a comfortable silence, the only noises being Jesus’s occasional hisses of pain and Kennedy’s hushed orders to remain still.

  
Finally, after about ten stitches, Kennedy taped a piece of cloth to Jesus’s side (he really needed a better first aid kit) and gently pulled his bloodied shirt over it.

  
“There you go.”

  
Slowly Jesus sat up.

  
“You pull those before we get back to Alexandria and I’m not stitching you up again,” Kennedy warned.

  
Jesus laughed and then frowned, pressing a hand to his injured side.

  
“We should stay here for the night,” he started. “I don’t want to try to make the drive back in the dark with the Saviors out and about, we can sleep here and drive back tomorrow. I’ll take first watch.”

  
“No you won’t,” Kennedy cut in when Jesus looked like he was about to move to the front seat. “You’ll lay back here and get as comfortable as you can considering and sleep until I can’t manage to keep my eyes open any longer.”

  
Jesus opened his mouth to protest.

  
“Jesus, seriously, get some sleep. I’ll wake you up when I need to.”

  
“You sure?” Jesus asked reluctantly.

  
Kennedy smiled. “Yeah, get some rest.”

 

**....**

 

Jesus awoke to the pinkish morning light streaming through the cars back windows.

  
 _Kennedy didn’t wake me up._ He thought, partially annoyed, and partially touched.

  
He pushed himself up slowly, his freshly stitched side protesting in response to the movement.

  
“Kennedy?”

  
No response. The car was empty.

  
Panic curled in Jesus’s gut and he immediately reached for his gun. He was half ready to start sprinting through the woods in search of his partner in crime when he caught sight of Kennedy’s dark brown hair through the car window.

  
He was sitting down, his back pressed to the Volvo.

  
A flash of movement caught Jesus’s eye. The black butterfly knife that he’d only seen him use a handful of times was darting between his hands with a precise flick of the wrist.

  
They’d moved the body of the man he’d shot into the woods the night before but he didn’t think that mattered to Kennedy.

  
Jesus stared but Kennedy didn’t stop, he continued to fiddle with the blade the knife opening and closing, flicking from left hand to right with lightning speed. Kennedy only stopped his movement when Jesus pushed the back door open and stepped out.

  
“Morning,” Kennedy greeted, butterfly knife frozen half opened in his hands.

  
“Morning.”

  
“How are you feeling?”

  
“You didn’t wake me up,” Jesus pointed out.

  
“No, I didn’t.”

  
“You could’ve.”

  
“I could’ve.” Kennedy agreed.

  
Realizing he wasn’t going to get anywhere with the way the conversation was going Jesus instead closed the car door and lowered himself next to Kennedy.

  
“I’ll drive back,” he offered. “You can sleep then.”

  
The side of Kennedy’s mouth tilted upward. “Alright.”

  
“Where’d you learn to use that?” Jesus asked, gesturing to the blade.

  
Kennedy simply hummed and opened the butterfly knife all the way, latching it so it’d stay that way. “Experience,” he replied seriously.

  
At that Jesus couldn’t help the startled laugh that made its way out of him.

  
Kennedy smiled back at him and met his eyes for the first time that morning.

  
They were strange in this light, Jesus thought, Kennedy’s eyes. Bluish green with a ring of gold around his pupil.

  
Again, he couldn’t help but smile and hurried to look away.

  
“Come on,” he said, sitting up. “Let’s go home.”

 

**....**

 

The drive back to Alexandria was long and quiet but neither of them minded. Kennedy, mostly due to Jesus’s insistence, ended up sleeping for most of the ride. He only woke up when they stopped at the gates of Alexandria.

  
“How long was I out?” He asked groggily, rubbing his eyes.

  
“About two hours,” Jesus replied, pulling into the safe zone once the gates squealed opened.

  
“ _Shit_.”

  
“You were up all night, you need to sleep.” An edge of concern coated his voice.

  
“I’m fine, really,” Kennedy said.

  
“You won’t be if you never sleep.”

  
“You sound like Maggie,” Kennedy said teasingly.

  
Jesus just sighed and parked the car on the grass by the gates.

  
As if summoned by her name Maggie appeared by the gate; a look of worry on her face.

  
“What happened?” Maggie called, speed walking towards them.

  
“We’re alright,” Kennedy replied.

  
“ _What happened_?” She asked again, firmer this time.

  
“Negan’s guys,” Jesus explained. “It’s not that deep it’s fine.” He continued when Maggie reached for his bloodied side.

  
She spun towards Kennedy and started patting him down for injuries. “And you? Are you hurt?”

  
Kennedy halfheartedly slapped his sister's hands away. “I’m _fine._ ”

  
Maggie gave him an unimpressed look. “I swear to god if you're lying to me-“

  
“You’ll injure me beyond repair yeah, yeah, yeah.”

  
Maggie pressed a hand to his cheek. “Seriously, Kenny, are you okay?”

  
Kennedy met her heavy stare with one of his own. “Maggie, _I’m fine_.”

  
Maggie still looked concerned but she didn’t press it any further.

  
Kennedy turned to Jesus. “You should get that checked out by a doctor.”

  
“I thought _you_ were my doctor,” Jesus replied playfully.

  
Kennedy rolled his eyes but he couldn’t help but smile a little. “I meant someone who can stitch you up with something other than dental floss.”

  
Jesus shrugged. “It’ll hold.”

  
Maggie looked between them carefully and smiled a bit, still looking too tense for a grin. “Come inside,” she said. “I’ll get you both something to eat.”

  
Kennedy nodded and followed his sister in the direction of their house. They’d almost made it to the first house when a flash of orange stopped him dead in his tracks.

  
Maggie stopped when she realized Kennedy wasn’t behind her anymore and Jesus paused as well.

  
“Is-is that a fucking _tiger_?” Kennedy managed.

  
Jesus followed his gaze. “Oh. That’s Shiva.”

  
Kennedy sent him an incredulous look.

  
Jesus chuckled then held his side wincing. “She belongs to the leader of the Kingdom; King Ezekiel. That’s him over there.”

  
Kennedy followed his gesture to the man with the grey dreads. “A fucking _tiger_.”

  
Jesus placed a careful hand on his shoulder and led him to the house. “You get used to it after awhile.”

  
“ _To a fucking tiger_?!”

  
They were on the porch now.

  
Maggie turned back and gave him a patient look. “She saved Carl’s life a few days ago. Scared the shit out of Negan.”

  
At that Kennedy managed a smile as he headed inside the house.

  
The house was significantly emptier than it had been the previous few days. Carl sat on the couch with Judith on his lap and Enid beside him but that was it.

  
Maggie immediately made a b line for the kitchen.

  
Carl frowned as he caught sight of Jesus’s torn shirt and jacket. “What happened?”

  
“He’s trying to catch up with you on the ' _most times any one person has been shot and survived_ ' record. He’s getting close, bud, you better watch out.”

  
Carl rolled his eyes at the joke but then fixed Jesus with a concerned look. “Are you okay?”

  
Jesus gave Carl a small grateful smile. “I’m fine.”

  
Carl simply nodded.

  
Enid offered Kennedy a polite smile. “She’s missed you,” She said, gesturing to Judith. “Carl said you must remind her of your sister.”

  
“Beth,” Carl elaborated.

  
Kennedy smiled softly and lifted Judith out of Carl’s grasp. “Of course,” He said. “Beth was your caretaker for awhile there wasn’t she?”

  
Judith babbled back at his and took a fistful of Kennedy’s shirt in her hand, tugging at it.

  
Maggie rounded the corner into the living room, two steaming bowls in hand but she dropped them when she saw Kennedy.

  
Tomato soup splattered over the floors, the bowls broke on impact, shards of glass flying across the floor.

  
At the sound of the bowls shattering Judith began to cry.

  
Enid rushed forward to pick up the glass shards at Maggie’s feet but it didn’t matter. Maggie wasn’t moving.

  
Kennedy bounced Judith gently in an attempt to calm her. “What the hell, Mags?”

  
Jesus leaned down and helped Enid with a few of the shards. “Carl, Enid, maybe you should take Judith upstairs.”

  
Carl hurried forward to take Judith from Kennedy.

  
It was only as he was handing her over that Kenny realized what had happened. When Judith had pulled down his shirt his bloody gauze had been put into full view of anyone who walked in. He’d forgotten he pulled a stitch at the store.

  
Kennedy let out a long sigh and readjusted his shirt.

  
Carl immediately took Judith upstairs but Enid made sure to get all the glass put away before she followed him up.

  
“You _lied_ to me?” Maggie’s voice was shaky.

  
“It didn’t happen today,” Kennedy replied without thinking.

  
“Oh, so you’ve been keeping this from me for awhile now.”

  
“It’s not bad.”

  
“It’s bleeding.”

  
“I pulled a stitch yesterday, it’s no big deal, it’s healed... well, _mostly_ healed,” Kennedy lied.

  
“ _Stitches_? Let me see it.” She marched to him and reached for his shirt but Kennedy grabbed her wrist before she could touch him.

  
“It’s _really_ not that bad.”

  
Maggie stared at him for a long minute before ripping her hand from his grasp and pushing back his shirt and gauze.

  
She froze.

  
Jesus frowned at the wound from his spot at the door.

  
Kennedy wanted to pull away, to stomp upstairs, to hide in his room and never come out.

  
 _You should’ve stayed in bed yesterday morning._ He told himself.

  
Maggie’s hand shook as she traced the thin wound. “This is a stab wound,” she said.

  
“A plus for observation, Sherlock,” Kennedy said but his voice was raw.

  
Maggie’s voice was raw with anger as she continued. “Negan did this to you.”

  
“ _Yeah_.”

  
“And you didn’t tell me.”

  
“You were already pissed enough,” Kennedy said. “I didn’t need to add onto that.”

  
Maggie shook her head and turned away. “How’d it happen?”

  
Kennedy just shook his head.

  
“Kenny, just- just please, make this easy for me.”

  
Kennedy sighed.

  
Jesus trained his eyes on the floorboards, likely wanting them to feel like they had space to talk but wanting to intervene if things got out of hand.

  
“One of Negan’s wives wanted out. I tried to help and it didn’t work. Negan figured out and wanted to punish me so he stabbed me.”

  
Maggie shook her head, tears running down her cheeks. “He hurt you.”

  
And just like that, Kennedy was angry. “ _Yeah_ ,” he said. “He hurt me. He raped me, and stabbed me, and made me feel like shit. But he’s done worse to others. The wife that I tried to get out tried to escape with her boyfriend and Negan killed him for it. Sherry, Dwight’s wife, only agreed to marry Negan after he said it’d keep her husband alive and even then he still burned his face for it. Those girls are there because they’re scared, Mags, you can’t just risk their death because you think you know them based off a single decision, you _don’t_.”

  
“And you do?”

  
Kennedy laughed bitterly. “No, I barely spent an hour talking to all of them in my three months there and when I did talk to them I was drunk.”

  
Maggie shook her head.

  
“I’m not any better than them, Mags,” He continued. “I understand that this is war and people are going to die but... just look for a way to try and save the wives...for me.”

  
At that Maggie softened. “Okay,” She said wetly. “I’ll try, I promise.”

  
Kennedy sighed and kissed his sister on the cheek.

  
“You’re still bleeding,” she said when he pulled back.

  
Kennedy eyed the wound then waved it off. “The blood dried.”

  
Maggie frowned.

  
“I’m gonna go take a nap,” Kennedy said. “I’m- I’m _really_ tired. You can stitch me back up till you're content when I wake up.”

  
Maggie frowned but nodded.

  
And Kennedy made his way back up to his room.

 

BEFORE

 

A few hours after Kennedy found Shawn with a fever Hershel was putting him with Annette. He didn’t explain what was happening as he carted Kennedy’s brother off into the room that had become strictly prohibited from _all_ entry in the last few days, he didn’t so much as say that he was going to be okay.

  
Shawn could barely stand when Hershel helped him up, could barely move.

  
Kennedy wanted to protest, to demand what his father thought he’d get out of keeping both Annette and Shawn at the farm instead of taking them to the hospital. But even as the two walked right in front of him Kennedy couldn’t manage to get a word out.

  
Distantly, he heard the bedroom door open and shut again as Hershel escorted Shawn inside, and Kennedy thought, for a moment, that he’d heard... _snarling_ coming from inside.

 

AFTER

 

When Kennedy woke up again it was morning and Maggie was laying down next to him. Silent but still awake.

  
“Did you sleep?” Kennedy asked after a moment, his voice heavy with sleep.

  
“Yes, no, a little,” Maggie replied. “Not for long.”

  
Kennedy closed his eyes again. “You should sleep more, the baby needs rest. Especially during all of this.”

  
Maggie’s voice was soft. “ _I’m sorry_ , Kenny.”

  
“You don’t have to apologize, Mags.”

  
“I’m sorry I’m never there for you when it counts.”

  
At that Kennedy opened his eyes again. “It’s not your fault.”

  
Maggie’s cheeks were wet when she shook her head. “I should’ve been there that first time you tried- when you hurt yourself and I _definitely_ should’ve been there the second time and now with Negan-“

  
“Maggie,” Kennedy cut in firmly. “None of that is your fault. When I tried to kill myself that was _my_ decision and mine alone and the same goes for Negan. You being there wouldn’t have changed anything, I just would’ve been agreeing to it for different reasons.”

  
“I could’ve _stopped_ it,” Maggie insisted.

  
“Maybe, _just_ maybe... but we’ll never know, so just let it go.”

  
“I can’t. Kenny, I- You’re my baby brother, you’re my responsibility-“

  
“I stopped being your responsibility when you moved out and that’s _fine_. You don’t have to feel guilty about not being there for me when for one reason or another you had no reason to be.” Kennedy sighed and rubbed his sleepy eyes. “You need someone to forgive you? _Fine_ , you’re forgiven.”

  
“It’s not that simple,” Maggie insisted.

  
“Why not?”

  
Maggie didn’t have a good reply to that, Kennedy could see it in her eyes.

  
“Listen,” he began. “I can... _understand_ if you can’t accept everything right away but... I’m trying to move on, Mags, and I can’t do that if it’s the only thing I see on your face every time you look at me.”

  
Maggie wiped her cheeks and nodded. “I understand, I- I’m sorry, Ken.”

  
Kennedy chuckled softly. “Stop apologizing.”

  
Maggie gave him a cheeky grin. “ _Sorry_.”

 

**....**

 

Jesus leaned against the house, his eyes raking over what little he could see of the community from Rick’s front porch.

  
A plan had been decided late the previous night and things finally felt like they were really being set in motion. Sheets of metal were being fastened to cars, weapons were being loaded, and troops were being rallied.

  
Between Michonne, Rick, and Ezekiel, Jesus had heard at least five speeches in that morning alone.

  
“How’s your side?”

  
Jesus jumped a bit at the voice and turned to face Kennedy who was grinning at him. “Considering your resources you did a pretty decent job at stitching it up,” He said.

  
“So the floss held?”

  
“The floss held.”

  
“Damn, I thought I’d wake up to news of you bleeding out because they pulled.”

  
“Way to remain optimistic,”Jesus scolded.

  
Kennedy winked at him. “I try.”

  
Jesus had to look away so he didn’t end up grinning like an idiot. “How’s Maggie?”

  
“Sleeping, she wanted to help but I insisted.”

  
“That’s good,” Jesus said. “You’re good for her.”

  
Kennedy moved so he was standing next to him. “After Glenn was... is she okay?”

  
At that Jesus eyed him. “She’s healing. I think you both have that in common.”

  
Kennedy gave him a long look before turning his eyes to the porch then spinning to head for the door. “I should go help Carl with Judith.”

  
Jesus reached out to stop him without thinking. “Wait.”

  
Kennedy looked back at him.

  
“Uh, we have withdrawal medication in the infirmary, I checked, I can get you some, for your headaches if you want.”

  
Kennedy squinted at him as if he were trying to work something out in his head. “Yeah, Yeah thanks.”

  
Jesus simply nodded, then without really thinking it through slipped his hand into the back pocket of Kennedy’s jeans and pulled out a small object without him noticing as he made for the door.

  
When the front door shut behind him Jesus let out a shaky breath of relief and looked back down at his hand to frown at Kennedy’s cigarette carton.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo! So that’s chapter thirteen! A bit happened in that. We’re definitely going somewhere.  
> I just want to take a quick second to thank everyone who has taken the time to read this fic and leave feedback. You have no idea how much you motivate me and without your support I wouldn’t be writing this fic today. Everyone who praises my writing and my OC have given me so much confidence and your support means the world to me. THANK YOU!  
> Oh yeah, and the next chapter will be coming out on fifth of next month! See ya soon!  
> Kudos keep me cool and comments heal my sunburns.


	14. Alright, Cowboy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The TV at the farm starts working again. Later, Kennedy goes on a quest to get his cigarettes back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we’re coming close to running out of pre-prepared chapters here so depending on how much I write I might just start posting whenever I finish a chapter now instead of planning it ahead of time unless you guys like knowing loosely when the next chapter will be out then just tell me and I’ll keep putting the dates in the end notes.  
> TW for mentioned rape and mentioned self-harm/suicide.  
> Hope y’all like it!

BEFORE

It had been three days since Hershel locked up Shawn when the TV started working again on certain channels. It hadn’t been incredibly long since it had stopped working but they all huddled around it like it’d been years. The _‘children_ ’ were relegated to the floor as Hershel, Patricia, and Otis watched from the couch.

  
The channel they’d been watching was the news and everything the newscaster said seemed worse than the last. The military had lost contact with Washington, the CDC didn’t know what the bizarre disease that was spreading rapidly was, the military thought it necessary to set up camp in Atlanta.

  
“Let’s go to Richard outside of the Atlanta city borders. How’s it going out there, Richard?” The newscaster asked with a shaky smile.

  
The video switched to a picture of a man surrounded by dozens of cars, Atlanta bright in the distance.

  
The man smiled shakily as well. “Hey, Brenda. As you can see there’s quite a bit of traffic heading into the city now. One couple I spoke with said they’ve been trying to get into the city for _two days_. Others say-“ the man cut off as there was some commotion behind the camera.

  
There was a series of shouts and then the man turned back to the camera. “Brenda, it looks like-“

  
And then everyone froze; the camera man, Kennedy, Maggie, Beth, Otis, Patricia, and even Hershel, as they watched bombs fall from the sky and Atlanta erupted into flames.

  
Then the screen went blue and what only could be described as elevator music began to play as _‘technical difficulties’_ showed up on the screen.

  
Kennedy took a shuttering breath.

  
Beth looked back to Hershel. “Daddy? What happened?”

  
But even Hershel had been stunned into silence.

  
Kennedy didn’t wait for his answer, he shot to his feet and ran for the kitchen, Maggie called after him but he didn’t slow.

  
He’d gone to school in Atlanta. _Will_ had gone to school in Atlanta. Will’s _apartment_ was in Atlanta.

  
Kennedy's hands shook as he picked up the phone and dialed Will’s number.

  
It rang once, twice, then...

  
_“The number you’ve dialed is currently unavailable-“_

  
Kennedy slammed the phone back against the stand once, then again, and again, until he was sinking to the floor with his hand pressed firmly to his mouth so he wouldn’t scream.

  
Hot tears streamed down his face and once they started he couldn’t stop them.

  
“Kenny?” Maggie’s voice was gentle.

  
Kennedy took a few shuttering breaths. “He- he was in- in the ci-city. He was-was in Atlanta.”

  
Maggie slowly approached him, dropping into a crouch when she got close. “Who was?”

  
 _Everyone_ , Kennedy thought. _my friends, my teachers,_ everyone _._

  
But instead, he said; “my-my boyfriend.”

  
Maggie’s face fell. “Oh, Kenny...”

  
“I- I tried to call him but-“

  
“Okay,” she cut in. “I’ll... get you some tea.”

  
But he didn’t want some tea, he wanted to see Will, and to see his brother.

 

AFTER

 

A day passed by unceremoniously at Alexandria. Kennedy spent most of his time helping take care of Judith and trying to remember useful details from his time at the Sanctuary. He remembered little and repeatedly trying to recall his time with Negan wasn’t his favorite activity so Kennedy tried to focus on Judith. A lot of the day passed with him talking to her about Alexandria, she didn’t say much in return but he sensed that she understood.

  
It was midday when Kennedy realized he was talking to a _toddler_ and that likely meant he should try leaving the house.

  
Kennedy had been in Alexandria for a few days but he hadn’t really taken the time to explore the community. He’d been too preoccupied with his familial issues to bother. But he found himself enjoying the safe zone as he headed out with Judith on his hip.

  
Most of the occupants were gathered by the gates, listening intently as Rick and Michonne instructed them how to use an automatic rifle.

  
As soon as he saw the crowd Kennedy swiftly turned in the other direction. He didn’t feel like dealing with prying looks.

  
He didn’t realize he’d been heading back towards the house until it came into view behind another tall white house.

  
Kennedy sighed and paused in the middle of the road.

  
Judith looked up at him and frowned.

  
“I don’t imagine you know where the quiet places to hang out around here are?” He asked her.

  
“No, but I do.”

  
Kennedy jumped at the sound of the voice, spinning to face a man he didn’t recognize.

  
The man stood in front of one of the many pastel houses, he was smiling. “You must be Kennedy,” he said.

  
“Yeah...” Kennedy began cautiously, tugging Judith a bit closer to him.

  
The man chuckled slightly and raised his hands in mock surrender. “I know, _stranger danger_.” He moves one of his raised hands to scratch his short brown beard. “I’m a friend of Rick’s. My name is Aaron.”

  
Kennedy relaxed a bit at that. He’d overheard Michonne talking about an Aaron before and she hadn’t sounded particularly upset with the man so Kennedy assumed he was to be trusted.

  
“I live here with my boyfriend, Eric, I guess we’re kind of your neighbors.”

  
Kennedy softened a bit at that. “You said you know the quiet places around here?”

  
Aaron grinned and pointed down the street. “There’s a pond a short ways away from the entrance,” he started. “There’s a gazebo there that the residents rarely use.”

  
Kennedy followed his finger and offered a small smile. “Thanks.”

  
“Don’t mention it.”

 

The sun was out in full force so the shade that the gazebo offered made it a haven for Kennedy and Judith.

  
The pond was mercifully free of Alexandrian’s and was blissfully quiet save for the slight hum of bugs and the occasional splash of a frog taking a dip.

  
Entertaining Judith wasn’t hard, Kennedy simply found her a pale drawing rock and set her loose on the gazebo. Ten minutes in the far right corner was completely covered in scribbles.

  
 _It’ll wash off._ Kennedy thought.

  
He breathed in the fresh air carefully and lowered himself onto the gazebo floor with Judith, taking time to take in the greenery around him.

  
There had been a pond at the farm. They had swam in it when the summer heat had grown too fierce. It was shaded so the water had always been freezing and full of bugs and crawdads but it cooled them down.

  
Up until she’d been six Beth had refused to swim in the water, she saw one of the crawdads once and had become convinced the lake was infested with 'water scorpions'. It’d taken Shawn pushing her in to finally get her in. She had cried when he did it but they all knew she was the one who needed the cool water the most; her pale skin and the sun didn’t mix.

  
“You remind me of her,” Kennedy found himself saying.

  
Judith looked up from her squiggly masterpiece to eye Kenny suspiciously.

  
“You’re nothing like her but... she loved looking after you, loved babies. She always wanted kids... I think you were kind of like a daughter to her.”

  
Judith tilted her head slightly and then turned back to her drawing.

  
Kennedy sighed.

  
He needed a smoke, or some booze, booze would be better. The withdrawal pills Jesus had given him helped with the perpetual headache and nausea but the craving was still there. _Constantly._

  
 _You can smoke when you put Judith down for her nap_. He decided.

  
But then as he thought of his smokes he realized that he had no idea where they even were. Kennedy usually kept them in his pants pocket but he didn’t remember taking them out when he took them off and he always checked his pockets before washing his clothes. Then, Kennedy remembered Jesus.

  
_... fucking hell._

 

BEFORE

 

The phone never started working again and Kennedy fell back into old habits. He rarely left his bed, barely ate whatever Maggie brought him to eat, and ignored all of her attempts to make conversation. He knew he was worrying his family but he couldn’t bring himself to change his routine.

  
He felt empty, emptier than he had felt in a very long time. Will hadn’t magically cured his depression but... he had made Kenny feel... better, _happier_. But now he was gone.  
A small part of Kennedy wanted to believe he was okay, that there was even the slightest chance that Will had made it out alive somehow but Kennedy was a pessimist at heart and something told him he’d never see his boyfriend again.

  
According to Maggie; Beth had snuck out a few days previous to find her boyfriend and had somehow managed to bring him back with her. Hershel was furious but Beth didn’t seem to care.

  
“I think she’s just stressed out,” Maggie had said. “You know how she is with boys, she’s worse than me.”

  
Kennedy had yet to meet the boy but he didn’t mind that, he was busy.

  
He rolled over in his tiny bed, looking from Shawn’s bed to the hallway.

  
His parents' bedroom was directly across the hall from his.

  
Occasionally, he’d hear a noise like a body bumping the wall or a low moan but he never heard voices. Hershel continued to insist that Annette and Shawn were fine but again; Kennedy was a pessimist.

 

AFTER

It wasn't hard for Kennedy to find Jesus. Unlike the rest of his family, Jesus didn't seem to be instructing any 'how to' classes on killing people or attending any meetings so the first place he looked was the house. And lo and behold; _there he was._

 

He'd forgone his usual aesthetic seemingly due to the heat, losing his trench coat and vest and instead settling in a simple thin white shirt and light looking jeans, his hair pulled back into a messy bun.

 

Kennedy had to admit; he was a bit taken aback at the sight.

 

Jesus's eyes were a strikingly light blue that made his brown hair look shockingly dark when the light hit them just right.

 

Kennedy's cheeks warmed.

 

It didn't help that he could see through his shirt.

 

Jesus seemed to notice him, looking up from his lunch to Kennedy.

 

"Hey," Kennedy said, trying to sound chipper and not at all annoyed by his missing smokes.

 

Jesus raised a brow with a thin smile. "What's got you all chipper?"

 

"Am I not allowed to be happy?" Kennedy asked, depositing Judith in her highchair.

 

"You are, but I was wondering if there was a reason why."

 

Kennedy let his grin turn mischievous as he changed the subject. "I think I've got you pegged."

 

At that, Jesus grinned and raised a brow. "Oh?"

 

"The gentle silent type," Kennedy mused. "You're a rare breed, y'know that?"

 

Jesus chuckled. “Oh really?”

  
Kennedy swiped a stale chip from Jesus’s plate and nodded as he ate it. “ _Very_ rare.”

  
Jesus pushed the plate towards him seemingly in silent permission to take the rest of his food.

  
“In my very first psychology class our professor had us pick partners and try to analyze them.”

  
“Oh really?”

  
“ _Mmhmm_ , you remind me of my partner.”

  
Jesus raised a brow once again.

  
“You’re _pretty_ \- surprisingly pretty for your situation, but my partner's situation was being hungover and awake at eight thirty in the morning where yours is living in the apocalypse-“

  
Jesus chuckled softly at that.

  
Kennedy continued. “You have a very interesting choice of style and an incredibly tragic backstory but I haven’t quite figured out what it was...”

  
Jesus hummed and rested his bearded chin on his palm as he eyed Kennedy. “You don’t even have the slightest idea?”

  
At that Kennedy hummed as if in thought.

  
Jesus grinned.

  
“Let me guess... you were... married- no, _engaged,_ and your soon to be wife, no-“ Kennedy narrowed his eyes at Jesus. “ _Husband_ left you-no, _cheated_ on you.”

  
Jesus's grin was a bit goofy. “Almost,” He said. “But actually _I_ cheated on _him_.”

  
Kennedy arched a brow. “Oh _really_?”

  
“Yeah, I couldn’t say no, Idris Elba is just too attractive.”

  
Kennedy grinned. “Nobody can blame you there.”

  
Jesus hummed. “Unfortunately I think the story is a lot more simple than that.”

  
Kennedy arched a brow. “And I’m guessing you won’t be telling me it anytime soon?”

  
Jesus grinned. “What’d be the fun in that?”

  
“So...” Kennedy swiped another chip, trying to act casual. “How’s the war plans comin’?”

  
He sighed at the change in subject but didn’t verbally protest. “Good. Maggie listened to you, she’s working with Rick to find a way around the workers and the wives.”

  
Kennedy hummed.

  
“I’ll try to bring it up again next time,” Jesus offered. “See what’s going on.”

 

Kennedy smiled warmly, trying to ignore the guilty flutter in his stomach at what he was about to do, and stood. “Thanks.”

 

Then he leaned over, wrapping his arms delicately around Jesus's shoulders, his lips brushing his roughly bearded cheek as Kennedy slipped his hand into the front pocket of his jeans, wrapping around the slight bulge there.

 

His carton of cigarettes.

 

Kennedy pulled back quickly, turning before Jesus could see the blush on his cheeks, stopping only to pick up Judith on his way out of the room.

 

BEFORE

 

A week had passed by the time Kennedy got the opportunity he’d been waiting for. He’d known for awhile that he needed to get into the room while everyone was out but finding the opportunity when they had so many guests was tricky. Portia went into the room twice a day and she always looked grim as she left it, and Hershel always made sure it was under lock when he was in the home, making sure that none of his children had access to it.

  
It was midday when Kennedy saw his opportunity. Hershel was outside tending to the animals and Maggie had gone to help him, Portia was downstairs making lunch, Otis was watching their home videos on the TV, and Beth and her boyfriend were out making out somewhere. The hall was empty.

  
Kennedy pushed out of bed slowly, his legs protesting at the movement when his feet touched the wooden floors.

  
His socks quieted his steps but he still had to be careful of the houses loose floorboards.

  
Despite his caution, the floor still screamed at his weight occasionally but Portia never came to investigate, likely thinking Kennedy was just getting up to go to the bathroom.

  
By the time Kennedy rested his palm on the cool metal of his parent's door handle his heart was pounding inside his chest.

  
The noises, the moans, were louder now and only grew in volume as he pushed open the door. It was the first thing he noticed and then: the _smell_.

  
Kennedy clapped his hand over his mouth and nose at the stench.

  
It wasn’t the smell of sick but the smell of... _death_. He recognized it from all the times he’d found mangled chicken carcasses in their coop after a fox got in. It was the scent of decaying flesh and blood.

  
All of the blood rushed out of his face as he took in the state of the room.

  
There were stacks of decaying meals sitting on the top of the dresser, uneaten by anything but the flies and ants that crawled over them. Then; both tied to the headboard were Annette and Shawn.

  
They saw Kennedy before he saw them because when he finally faced them they were already reaching out with their single free hands and snarling at him, teeth bared.

  
Kennedy doubled back a bit at the sight, his hip knocking into the dresser and knocking one of the plates to the floor with a startling crash.

  
Annette’s face looked grey and her eyes looked empty.

  
Shawn looked pale and emotionless.

  
Kennedy was going to puke, or faint, or-

  
“ _What are you doing in here_?” Portia’s voice was shrill from the doorway.

  
Kennedy blinked, tears streaking down his cheeks. “What’s wrong with them?”

  
Portia’s lips drew into a thin line and she grabbed the sleeve of Kennedy’s flannel shirt, pulling him from the room and slamming the door shut behind them. “They’re sick,” she insisted.

  
“ _No_.”

  
She continued to drag him to his and Shawn’s room.

  
“No- what... what _are_ they? They aren’t...” Kennedy shook his head as if he could shake away the memory of what he’d seen.

  
“ _They are your brother and your momma_ , that’s all that matters.”

 

AFTER

 

The church was startlingly quiet and uncomfortable but Kennedy settled down there anyway. He needed a break from everyone, just for a little while. The presence of the residents of Alexandria was suffocating him, all their calculating looks and judgmental whispers drained all his energy. Jesus, Carl, Maggie, hell even Judith was becoming difficult to be around. So he'd quickly made his way over to Aaron's house, praying the pinkness of his cheeks had faded, and handed the toddler over to him with a request to give her to her brother if he could find him.

  
“Can I help you with something?” A soft-spoken voice asked from behind.

  
Kennedy turned to look behind him and caught sight of the priest, Gabriel, the others called him.

 

“No.” An uncomfortable feeling settled in his chest, the same feeling that came when Annette had invited her church friends over for dinner. “No, thank you.”

  
Kennedy stood from the pew, fully intending on getting the hell out of there when Gabriel spoke again.

  
“You’re Maggie’s brother, right? Kennedy?”

  
Kennedy paused reluctantly and nodded.

  
Gabriel smiled and gestured to a pew. “Sit, please, I’d like to talk with you.”

  
Kennedy just shook his head, looking around the church for an excuse to leave.

  
“Please,” Gabriel repeated. “You look troubled.”

  
Kennedy was troubled but he didn’t say that. “Maggie will be looking for me.”

  
“If you don’t want to talk to me that’s fine. But might I ask why you’re so uncomfortable around me?”

  
Kennedy frowned and eyed Gabriel. “I’m not.”

  
Gabriel chuckled quietly. “You don’t have to lie, I won’t be offended.”

  
Kennedy sighed. “I’m not very religious.” It was the truth but not the whole truth regarding the priest's question. All of Kennedy’s religious inclinations had faded the first time he’d heard their churches preacher say that God would “ _punish all the fags_ ”. He’d been thirteen.

  
“That’s fine,” Gabriel said and he actually looked like he meant it. “But might I ask why?”

  
Kennedy’s lips pressed into a thin line.

  
“I won’t judge,” Gabriel smiled. “That’s kind of the point of this job.”

  
Kennedy sighed. “I’m gay.”

  
But the priest didn’t flinch in disgust or tell him he was going to hell, in fact, his expression barely changed.

  
He nodded in understanding.”I imagine growing up in the south hasn’t treated you well then, I’m sorry for that.”

  
Kennedy frowned and then shrugged awkwardly.

  
Gabriel smiled a bit, sensing his discomfort. “Who you find attractive isn’t any of my business.”

  
At that Kennedy smiled a bit. “I was under the impression that God wasn’t a fan of that sort of thing.”

  
Gabriel leaned forward a bit in his pew and lowered his voice a bit. “Between you and me I don’t think God really cares about that, especially in times like these.”

  
Kennedy actually grinned at that. “Did my sister set you up to this?”

  
Gabriel gave him an odd look. “Why do you think Maggie would put me up to this?”

  
Kennedy shrugged. “She’s been a bit... _overprotective_ recently.”

  
“Can you blame her? She thought you were dead and now you’re back with her, of course she’d be concerned about your wellbeing.”

  
“Especially with where I’ve been, you mean.”

  
Gabriel sighed then smiled, patting the space beside him.

  
Kennedy frowned but obediently sat beside the priest.

  
“You don’t seem very angry,” Gabriel observed.

  
“I am.”

  
“Yes, but you don’t seem it.”

  
Kennedy narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”

  
Gabriel leaned back in his seat and sent him an assessing look. “It’s strange, everyone here is so angry at Negan and I _understand_ why, he’s killed many of my friends, many of the people here in Alexandria, and I think that even _I_ would have trouble forgiving him for that. But you don’t seem angry, don’t seem like you want revenge, why is that?”

  
Kennedy shrugged again.

  
“I think you’re trying to stay strong for your sister, just like she’s trying to stay strong for you.”

  
Kennedy frowned and turned towards one of the stained glass windows.

  
“Kennedy-“

  
“Kenny.” He didn’t know why he said it, it wasn’t that often that he was called that nickname, hell, he didn’t even _like_ that nickname.

  
He saw Gabriel smile in his peripheral vision.

  
“Kenny,” he corrected. “Do you ever consider what you might do if you and Negan come face to face again?”

  
He had, he’d daydreamed endlessly about killing Negan, about taking the butterfly knife he’d stabbed him with a putting it through the leader's eye. But in truth...

  
“I don’t know what I’d really do if I saw him again,” Kennedy admitted.

  
Gabriel nodded understandingly. “Rick keeps on saying he needs to die but I’m not sure whether or not I’d be able to do it, to kill him.”

  
Kennedy scoffed. “You’re a priest, of course you won’t kill him.”

  
“I’ve killed before,” he said it nonchalantly like he was commenting on the weather. “I just, I would like to know what lead him to this, y’know?”

  
Kennedy wanted to say no, that he just wanted him dead, but he couldn’t deny that he’d wondered more often than not why he had done it, why he forced the girls and him to marry him, why he’d _insisted_ on sleeping with them- no, _raping_ them. He’d always thought that Negan was smart when he was at the Sanctuary, that everything he did was well thought out and calculated. But that didn’t match up with some of the things he’d done; the wives, Tom, Kennedy.

  
Kennedy’s voice shook with anger as he replied. “I want him dead, I want to see him suffer, to see him burn for what he did to Glenn and Maggie and the wives.”

  
Gabriel watched him carefully. “But not for what he did to you?”

  
Kennedy took a steadying breath. “I- no.”

  
Gabriel nodded and eyed the cross at the far end of the church. “I think you have trouble seeing yourself as a victim.”

  
Kennedy laughed but it was watery. “Are you a shrink now?”

  
Gabriel smiled.

  
They fell into a comfortable silence, the only noise around them being the gentle sounds of the church settling.

  
“Kenny, I think you should talk to your sister about this,” Gabriel said.

  
Kennedy shook his head. “It’ll just make her angrier.”

  
Gabriel nodded. “But I think she needs to hear the details, the things you don’t want to talk about.”

  
When Kennedy just sighed he continued. “I’ve talked about you with her before, y’know that?”

  
Kennedy turned to face him and frowned. “I thought you weren’t supposed to talk about those kinds of things.”

  
“She told me while we were reinforcing the wall,” Gabriel explained. “It wasn’t a private session.”

  
Kennedy wanted to ask what she’d said but he didn’t have to, Gabriel beat him to it. “She said you’d tried to kill yourself twice and that she had never really figured out why you did it.”

  
Kennedy shook his head. “I told her.”

  
“The first time, not the second.”

  
Kennedy sighed.

  
“I think you don’t like talking about your feelings because it opens you up to feeling vulnerable and that people have hurt you while you were vulnerable before but, Kenny,” Gabriel sighed. “You can’t heal if you never talk about the bad things that have happened to you, because if you don’t then they stick with you and _they hurt more._ ”

 

 

It only cooled down once the sun went down but even then a heavy weight lingered in the air. Suffocating.

  
Kennedy struggled to tape the side of his converse back together with duck tape, a cigarette hanging out of the side of his mouth.

  
He heard the door to the house creak open behind him but didn’t bother to turn around or stub out his cigarette.

  
“Where’d you get those?” Jesus asked from behind him. “They’re hard to find these days.”

  
He very well could have been talking about Kennedy’s beat up converse but he doubted it.

  
“From you,” Kennedy replied simply.

  
He heard the rustling of clothes as Jesus rummaged through his pockets in search of Kennedy’s stolen smokes.

  
“At lunch,” Jesus realized. “You took them.”

  
“Took them back,” Kennedy corrected. He took a long drag of his cigarette and blew the smoke in Jesus’s general direction.

  
Jesus sighed and took a spot on the step next to him.

  
“We have other shoes you know,” he said.

  
Kennedy hummed and used his butterfly knife to cut off the end of the duck tape, patting down the jagged edge when he finished.

  
He examined his handiwork and removed the cigarette from his lips. “They’ll live.”

  
“ _You won’t_ if you keep smoking those,” Jesus replied.

  
Kennedy smiled. “Can I help you with something?”

  
“Maybe I just want to talk.”

  
“Is that so?”

  
“ _Maybe_.”

  
Kennedy’s smile stretched into a grin. “Alright then. _Talk_.”

  
“How are you feeling today?” Jesus asked after a moment of thought.

  
“Superb,” Kennedy said with a chuckle.

  
“Well, I’m glad, really.”

  
Kennedy met his eyes.

  
“I’m glad you found Maggie and the others. You deserve to be happy.” Jesus said, his voice sincere.

  
“Well _shucks_.”

  
This time it was Jesus’s turn to laugh.

  
Kennedy couldn’t help the little flutter in his chest that emerged at the sight. “Why’d you take them?” He found himself asking.

  
Jesus’s smile faded a bit and he shrugged. “I guess the same reason that I looked through your bag.”

  
Kennedy raised a brow and took another drag. “You were worried I’d brought a bomb into camp with them?” He asked around the smoke.

  
“I was worried about you,” Jesus corrected.

  
Kennedy lowered his cigarette a bit. “Worried?”

  
“Okay, that first time I was worried you’d bring a bomb into camp-“

  
Kennedy scoffed.

  
“But I was quickly proven wrong.”

  
“So what?” Kenny took another drag. “You’re worried about my wellbeing now?”

  
“Something like that,” Jesus watched him carefully.

  
Kennedy exhaled and chuckled. “... _Alright_.” He took his pack from his pocket and handed it to Jesus.

  
He looked surprised but he obediently took the pack from him.

  
“Hey,” Kennedy said. “At least now it’s _my_ choice.”

  
Jesus smiled and put the cigarettes his own pocket. “What about that one?” He asked, pointing to the one Kennedy held loosely between his fingers.

  
“Woah, slow down there, cowboy,” Kennedy said lifting the smoke again. “I’m saying goodbye.”

  
Jesus chuckled and shook his head.

  
The door squealed open behind them and Maggie joined them on the porch.

  
Kennedy flicked the ash from his cigarette. “Hey, sis.”

  
Maggie frowned at the smoke but said nothing about it. “We’ve got a plan,” she said instead.

  
Kennedy felt Jesus perk up a bit next to him. “When?” He asked.

  
“Tomorrow.”

  
At that Jesus spun to face her. “But we don’t have enough weapons and Rick said we should wait for them to come to us-“

  
“Rick changed his mind and the Kingdom is providing the guns.”

  
Jesus was still stiff next to him but he didn’t challenge her again.

  
“So, what’re we doing?” Kennedy asked.

  
“We’ll surround the Sanctuary with walkers, post snipers around the building, and attack the outposts. We think we’ve got the location of all of them and we’ve gotta take them out so the Sanctuary doesn’t have any reinforcements coming in to dig them out. Jesus, you’re on the satellite station.”

  
Kennedy took another drag. “What about the wives and workers?”

  
“We’ll make sure the building is secure before we bring in the walkers, that way the workers and the wives will have time to rise up against Negan’s men; we don’t think it’ll take much intervention from us beyond that,” Maggie said. “I think when the supplies start getting low they’ll be getting pretty mad at whoever’s leading.”

  
Kennedy sighed out the smoke he’d been holding in his lungs and watched as it floated away on a humid breeze.

  
Maggie kneeled down onto the step they sat on and took the cigarette from Kennedy, stubbing it out on the paved ground beneath them.

  
Kennedy didn’t protest. She _was_ pregnant after all.

  
“Kenny, I need you to stay here.”

  
At that, he looked up at his sister.

  
Maggie interrupted before he could protest. “I need you to look after this place while we’re gone, watch everyone just for awhile after we leave.”

  
“You mean Judith.”

  
“Kenny, I-“ Maggie sighed. “I just need you to stay out of this...please.”

  
“I’m already in this, Mags, I have been for awhile now.”

  
“I know but- you’ll come stay at the Hilltop with us later but for now just give me time to protect you, _please_.”

  
Kennedy stared into his sister’s green eyes. “I don’t need your protection, Mags,” he said but not rudely.

  
“I know, I know. Just do this for me, Ken.”

  
Kennedy sighed again and turned back to where his smoke had disappeared to. “Okay, watch the baby then find y’all at the Hilltop, cool.” He couldn’t keep the slight bitterness from his tone.

  
Maggie sighed dejectedly and placed a hand on his shoulder.

  
“You’ll like the Hilltop,” Jesus interrupted. “I’ve got books you can borrow.”

  
Kennedy smiled at the lame attempt to cheer him up. “ _Alright,_ cowboy.”

  
Jesus grinned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter fourteen!!! Wooo!!  
> The next chapter is going to be really long (well, maybe not that long but still pretty long by my standards) and it’ll be going more into the plot of the show now as well as progressing this stories plot of course.  
> New chapter should be up by the thirty first of this month or the first of September depending on how long it takes me to edit it.  
> I’ve recently been rereading Fangirl by Rainbow Rowell and I’d forgotten how fucking relatable it is. For those who don’t know it basically follows this girl Cath as she tries to balance her changing life as she goes into college and her love of writing fanfiction. If you haven’t read it I definitely suggest it, it’s really cute and sweet and I really relate to the protagonist (uh for obvious reasons). It's just been really reminding me how much I love to write.  
> But yeah. Thanks so much for reading and thank you to everyone who left a kudos or comment on the last chapter. They mean the world to me and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to express how thankful I am to everyone who has supported this fic so far. THANK YOU!!!!  
> Kudos wipe away my sweat and comments install air conditioning in my house.


	15. Poor Bastards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kennedy grapples with the knowledge of what his brother and stepmother have become. Later, the fighting starts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New username! Same fic!  
> Heya it feels like forever since I’ve posted a chapter here but it’s only really been a few weeks.  
> I’ve been having some difficulties recently as far as writing goes. Usually when I sit down and write everything comes to me fairly naturally but as of recently I feel everything I write is very matter of fact and uncomfortable to read. It’s not quite writer's block but just... slow creativity, I guess. Anyway, so I’ve been trying to deal with that so if any of this sounds strange I’m sorry.  
> This is a long one and a lot of stuff happens in it. A lot of the dialogue in this is directly from the show because I wanted to show certain characters thoughts on things and I don’t want this fic to follow Kennedy only so if the dialogue sounds familiar that’s why.  
> I hope you like it!

The sun beat down on them mercilessly as the residents of Alexandria, the Hilltop, and the Kingdom loaded up for war into their sheet metal filled cars.

Kennedy watched from a good ways away with Judith on his hip, not bothering to offer any help. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a bit bitter but in truth, he was glad he didn’t have to join the others. He knew he wouldn’t be stable if surrounded by Negan’s men with a gun in his hand and although he worried for the safety of his friends and family he also thought that he wouldn’t be much use in a shootout anyway.

  
Carl came up behind him, eyeing the scene.

  
“Where’d you go earlier?” Kennedy asked because he needed to say something.

  
“Me and my dad were scouting... by the intersection.”

  
As if summoned by his title Rick came into view by a sheet metal covered truck. Michonne followed closely behind him, saying something to quiet for him to hear. Rick gave her a small smile and then leaned in to kiss her.

  
Kennedy raised a brow. “When did _that_ happen?”

  
Carl chuckled a bit but didn’t answer, instead moving to join his family.

  
Rick pulled away from Michonne as Carl moved forward; removing his son's hat so he could hug him.

  
Michonne joined Kennedy. “Are you worried?” She asked.

  
“Are _you_?”

  
She smiled but it was weak.

  
Carl moved back as the cars began to pull out of Alexandria. When he reached them he looked to Michonne. “I know you wanted to go with them. I did too.”

  
Michonne’s expression fell a bit. “Everything hurts... but I’ll help you defend this place.”

  
Carl’s brows drew together in confusion. “Help _me_?”

  
“Oh yeah, this is your show.”

  
Carl laughed a bit and shook his head.

  
Michonne moved to stand next to him, bumping shoulders with him. “You’ll see.”

  
Kennedy frowned as the last of the cars disappeared behind the gate he already felt anxious. “When should I go?” He asked.

  
Michonne frowned at him then Judith. “I’m surprised she didn’t take you with her.”

  
Kennedy gently stroked Judith’s thin hair. “She thinks I’ll be safe here for now at least.”

  
Michonne frowned. “I’ll find a car for you.”

  
“Maggie gave me directions... I can walk there.”

  
“Didn’t you just run into a couple of Negan’s men a few days ago?” Carl asked. “It’s not safe to go walking out there, not now.”

  
Kennedy sighed. “I don’t... I don’t like this.” He couldn’t keep the shakiness from his tone.

  
Michonne placed a hand gently on his shoulder blade and rubbed small circles into his back. “I know, but this will all be finished soon. I’ll find you a car and someone to go with you when it’s time, okay?”

  
Kennedy didn’t like the idea of spending an hour long drive with a stranger. “I can make it there on my own. I’ll be fine, really.”

  
“Everything will work out in the end,” Carl said, tweaking Judith’s locks with his thumb and forefinger. “It has to.”

 

**....**

 

Jesus was nervous. He couldn’t lie to himself about that but he sure as hell could lie to the others about it. Besides, they didn’t need him to be a shaky mess, they needed him saying that they were going to win, so he did. And every time he said it he believed it a bit more.

  
_We are going to win, we are going to win, we are going to-_

  
Maggie placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

  
When he turned to face her she smiled. “We’re heading out.”

  
Jesus nodded, trying to keep himself determined. “That was a good speech.”

  
Maggie shrugged. “I just... I want them to know we’ll win.”

  
“We will.”

  
_We are going to win._

  
Maggie scanned the crowd stiffly.

  
“We _will_ win, Maggie,” Jesus said reassuringly.

  
“No it’s- it’s not that,” She sighed. “I should’ve brought Kenny.”

  
Jesus frowned. “You were trying to protect him... what’s wrong with that?”

  
Maggie shook her head. “What if they’ve figured out the plan? What if Dwight told them and they’re heading to Alexandria as we speak?”

  
“And face Michonne, Carl, Kennedy, _and_ Judith head on? Poor bastards.”

  
At that Maggie laughed.

  
Jesus smiled. “They’ll be fine, Mags. The plan will work.”

  
Maggie raised an eyebrow, a sly grin taking over her face. “‘ _Mags_ ’?”

  
Jesus’s cheeks heated and he looked to the cars as if they were the most interesting things he’d ever seen.

  
“I knew you and my brother were spending a lot of time together but... wow,” She teased. “You two braiding each other friendship bracelets yet?”

  
“It’s a catchy nickname,” Jesus justified.

  
Maggie grinned and shook her head. “It’s cute.”

  
Jesus glanced back at Maggie.

  
Her smile widened.

  
“ _Stop_.”

  
“Stop what?”

  
“He’s not- we’re not-“ Jesus sighed. “He’s not interested in me like that, trust me.”

  
“How would you know?”

  
“I just... do.”

  
Maggie’s smile softened and then she sighed. “I should’ve brought him.”

  
“I told you he’ll be fine.”

  
“If I’d brought him I at least would be able to keep an eye on him, take him to the Hilltop myself-“

  
“Maggie,” Jesus interrupted. “He’ll be _fine_.”

  
Maggie closed her eyes and loosed a shaky breath.

  
Jesus placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “He will.”

  
“Maggie!” Rick called from his truck. “Let’s move.”

  
Maggie opened her eyes and nodded towards Rick but her words were for Jesus. “Let’s win.”

 

BEFORE

 

**....**

  
Portia told Hershel, Kennedy knew that, but he’d yet to come to him with any demands or questions. Not that Kennedy had necessarily thought he would. Hershel had been taking it upon himself to only speak with Kennedy when it was completely necessary.

  
So Kenny took his time alone to reflect on what he’d seen.

  
_Decaying flesh, discolored eyes, yellow fingernails-_

  
Kennedy shivered and pushed out of his bed, making sure to avoid looking at his parent's door as he slipped into Maggie’s room.

  
Maggie was awake, of course, it was only midnight and her resting hours didn’t start till one thirty. She immediately looked up from her book when her door opened. “Kenny!” She grinned madly. “You got up.”

  
Kennedy's hands shook as he softly closed the door behind him. “I need to tell you something.”

  
Maggie’s brows tilted together in concern and she gently patted the corner of her bed.

  
Kennedy obediently took up the space and sighed. “I snuck in to see Mom and Shawn.”

  
Maggie froze.

  
“There... there’s something wrong with them, Mags,” his voice shook as he said it. “I don’t think they’re... _alive_.”

  
Maggie started him down and carefully closed her book, setting it on her nightstand. “They’re just sick, Ken.”

  
“I know Dad keeps saying that but...” Kennedy shivered. “There wasn’t anything left in their eyes, Mags.”

  
Maggie shook her head.

  
“Maggie, I know what I saw,” Kennedy hissed.

  
“I’m sure you thought you saw something, Ken. But-“

  
“You think I’m seeing things?”

  
“I think you saw your sick mother and brother and you’re imagination filled in the blanks.”

  
“That was _not_ my mother and my brother!” Kennedy shouted.

  
Maggie stared at him; wide-eyed.

  
Kennedy lowered his tone at the wounded look on his sister’s face. “It’s not them anymore, Mags. They weren’t... _there_.”

  
There was a long stretch of silence where Maggie just looked at him, then: “They are sick, Kennedy, _that’s all_.”

  
Kennedy’s stomach roiled and he shook his head.

  
“Kenny-“

  
He didn’t give her time to finish before he pushed away from her bed and stormed out of the bedroom.

 

AFTER

 

Kennedy eventually got away with going alone, despite Michonne’s protests. It had taken a bit of convincing and him reloading both his pistol and revolver for her to reluctantly agree.

  
The car was the same one he and Jesus had ridden out in for their supply run. It was a little scratched and dented but it was still running.

  
“You’ve got emergency food?” Michonne asked.

  
“Yep,” Kennedy replied, tossing his backpack onto the passenger seat.

  
“And a map?”

  
“ _Yes_.”

  
“A drivers license?” Carl cut in.

  
Kennedy managed a smile and tugged at Carl’s long locks. “Not on me but I promise I won’t get pulled over.”

  
Carl’s smile looked weak too but he was still trying.

  
“Are you sure you can’t wait? I could go with you after the others get back,” Michonne said.

  
“And then Maggie would freak out thinking I was abducted.”

  
“Just... be careful,” Carl said, eyebrows creased in worry.

  
Judith babbled something from his arms.

  
Kennedy’s smile was a bit more solid this time as he leaned down to kiss the top of her head. “I’ll see you soon, angel.” He pulled back to look at Carl. “You too.”

  
Carl wrapped his free arm around Kennedy’s shoulders carefully as to not squish his little sister.

  
Kennedy pinched his cheek when he pulled back and Carl chuckled.

  
“Be careful,” Michonne said as she wrapped her arms around his torso.

  
“Promise,” Kennedy replied.

  
And with that he opened the car door, taking his time to give the three a small smile before climbing in.

  
Michonne waved as he pulled the car door closed.

 

**....**

 

Maggie’s heart pounded in her chest as their cars pulled into the Sanctuary loading docks.

  
The building was wide and uncomfortably tall; it’s dozens of dirty windows giving it a grimy and haunting feel. It was just a factory but the sight of it set her teeth on edge.

  
This was where Negan had tortured her brother, this was where the man who killed Abraham and her husband lived.

  
The thought of Glenn still made her stomach twist in knots but she pushed that feeling away, instead embracing the anger that came after it.

  
The cars formed a barricade in from the building, the metal sheets across them acting as armor against any bullets that might be shot.

  
Maggie took a steadying breath and then joined the dozens of people as they flooded out of their cars and onto the loading docks, guns in hand.

  
She joined Rick behind one of the cars sharing a quick nod before she raised her arm.

  
At the signal everyone raised their guns.

  
Maggie scanned the men and women before quickly dropping her arm back down.

  
The loading docks filled with noise as they all fired at the air above, alerting the Saviors to their presence.

  
An awkward moment of silence passed as everyone waited tensely.

  
Then, the front door opened.

  
“Well, _shit_ ,” Negan called.

  
Maggie stiffened at the voice and cautiously peeked out from behind her cover.

  
“I’m sorry, I was in a meeting.” He grinned and gestured to their armored cars. “I see you got your little mudflaps with ya’.”

  
A few other Saviors joined him on the docks, looking cautious and confused.

  
“So I’m not exactly seeing a reason for us to try throwing lead at each other.” Negan placed a hand to his chest. “I care about my people, I don’t want to just march them into the line of fire because I wanna play _‘my dick is bigger than yours_ ’, it _is_ , we both know it. But, I’m also comfortable enough to accept the fact if it wasn’t. I’m certainly not going to let my people die over that shit.”

  
Negan pointed Lucille at where Rick stood behind the car. “Like _you’re_ about to.”

  
Anger sparked in Rick’s eyes.

  
“So Rick, what the hell can I do for you?”

  
Rick tilted his head and stepped out from behind his cover, he pointed to the men on the platform. “Dwight, your name’s Simon, your Gavin, and you?” He pointed to the grey-haired woman.

  
“Regina,” she replied carefully.

  
Eugene cut in. “Rick I’d feel amiss if-“

  
“ _No_ , I _know_ who you are. Listen, you five,” he raised his voice a bit. “The Saviors inside, all of you have a chance to survive here, to survive this. Y’all can live if you surrender. Can’t guarantee it anytime but now, _right_ now.”

  
Negan smiled. “So they surrender and you and your little piss patrol doesn’t kill them... that sounds like a good deal. What about me, Rick?”

  
“I told you... _twice,_ ” Rick replied. “You _know_ what’s gonna happen.”

  
“I do, I do know what’s gonna happen.” He pointed at Rick again. “You don’t, you have no idea what shit is about to go down. Lemme ask you something, Rick; do you think you’ve got the numbers for this fight?”

  
A deathly silence descend on the two groups.

  
Negan grinned again.

  
Rick’s jaw worked.

  
“You don’t,” Negan answered for him. “Simon.”

  
Simon returned to the door and gestured at someone inside.

  
Gregory stepped out of the Sanctuary hesitantly.

  
Maggie let out a small sigh.

  
_I should’ve killed him when I had the chance_ , She thought.

  
She turned back to look at Jesus.

  
He didn’t look surprised. “‘Course that’s where he went.”

  
Maggie couldn’t help the slight twist of her mouth despite herself.

  
Negan wrapped an arm across Gregory’s shoulders. “What have you got to say to Rick and the piss patrol, Gregory?”

  
Gregory placed his hands on his hips, like he was trying to make himself look authoritative. “The Hilltop stands with Negan and the Saviors,” he called out. “Any resident of the Hilltop who takes up arms or who supports this ultimatum against the Sanctuary or any of the Saviors for that matter... they will no longer be welcome in the colony.”

  
Negan gave him a prompting look. “And?”

  
Gregory frowned but he still continued. “There families will be thrown out and left to fend for themselves.”

  
Anger made Maggie’s chest feel tight and uncomfortable.

  
Negan grinned madly and patted Gregory’s shoulder. “ _And_?”

  
There was a brief pause but in the end, he continued. “Go home now,” Gregory yelled. “Or you won’t have a home to go back to.”

  
The residents of the Hilltop were silent.

  
Maggie looked to the asphalt under her feet.

  
Was it too much to ask them to fight? She wondered. No, no, they had just as much reason to fight as she did.

  
She met their eyes carefully. “You do what you have to do.”

  
Some looked contemplative, others looked like they had already made up their minds.

  
Eventually her gaze made it’s way to Jesus.

  
He smiled softly at her and shrugged. “All I have back at the Hilltop are a bunch of books and an old lobster bib.”

  
Maggie smiled back at him.

  
“You heard the man!” Negan called. “Go back to separating wheat and shit or whatever the hell it is you people do.”

  
Maggie grinned as nobody moved. “Doesn’t look like anyone’s goin’, does it?”

  
Gregory puffed out his chest. “The Hilltop stands with-“

  
“ _The Hilltop stands with Maggie_!” Jesus yelled over him.

  
Maggie felt her chest swell with affection for him. She gave him another small, grateful smile.

  
Jesus nodded back.

  
The group exchanged nods as they realized no one was coming forward to surrender.

  
“Sounds like shit is goin’ down, Rick,” Negan said.

  
“You lieutenants,” Rick yelled. “You’re gonna have to make up your minds.”

  
“Maybe we could take a timeout here,” Gavin interrupted.

  
“No,” Rick insisted. “This has to happen now. This is the only way.”

  
Finally, Negan’s smile melted away into a stern frown.

  
Rick looked amused. “You’re gonna make me _count_?” He chuckled a bit. “ _Okay_ , okay, I’m counting. Ten, nine, eight, _seven_ -“

  
At seven he set his rifle to automatic and fired on the Saviors.

  
The rest of the group was quick to join in.

  
Negan and the others hurried back behind cover as they all got to work at shattering all the windows in the Sanctuary.

  
After the building looked decently wrecked Maggie stepped back.

  
“Now!”

  
The group retreated to the cars to make their escape.

  
Maggie watched only for a minute as Father Gabriel climbed into the armored RV before throwing herself into her own car and pulling out of the driveway.

 

BEFORE

 

Maggie frowned as she watched her brother storm out of her room.

  
_“He just won’t understand,”_ her father had said to her earlier. _“I know he won’t.”_

  
Maggie sighed.

  
She hated that her father was right.

  
Annette and Shawn were sick was all. She’d snuck in to see them few times and saw where her brother was coming from but...

  
They were just sick.

 

AFTER

 

**....**

  
Kennedy’s eyes widened as he pulled up to the Hilltop.

  
The walls, while seemingly only made of wood, were at least six feet taller than the ones at Alexandria. It was imposing, to say the least.

  
Kennedy slowed to a stop in front of the gates and carefully pushed out of the car.

  
A man appeared at the top of the wall; a machine gun pointed at Kennedy. “Who are you? What do you want?”

  
Kennedy put a hand above his eyes, unsuccessfully trying to block out the sun as he squinted up at the man. “I’m Maggie’s brother, Kennedy. She told me to come here.”

  
The man lowered the gun a bit then gestured behind him seemingly at some people out of sight.

  
There was a loud screeching noise and then the massive gate opened revealing a surprisingly small clearing filled with makeshift shops, trailers, and in the middle of it all a massive white structure which looked like a miniaturized copy of the White House.

  
Kennedy got back into his car, driving into the community and parking the car on a bare section of dead grass.

  
The few people that remained in the community watched cautiously as he stepped out of the Volvo, various looks of uncertainty covering their faces.

  
The attention made him feel uncomfortable, like he was being judged somehow.

  
Lifting his backpack from the passenger seat, Kennedy moved around the car, not entirely sure what he was supposed to do.

  
After a beat of awkward silence an Asian man climbed down the wall and jogged over to where he stood.

  
“Hey,” the man said, breathless. “You’re Kenny, right? Maggie’s brother?”

  
Kennedy paused for a second then nodded.

  
“I’m, uh, Kal.”

  
“Okay...”

  
“I think I’m supposed to show you around?” The way he said it made it sound like a question.

  
Kennedy considered pointing this out but instead, he decided he’d rather be escorted by his sister. “Is Maggie back yet?”

  
Kal shook his head and looked back at the other residents. “No, no one has come back yet.”

  
Kennedy chewed on his lip nervously and looked to the gate.

  
“I can, um, show you where you can wait... if you want.”

  
Kennedy looked back to Kal and nodded. “Thanks.”

 

**....**

 

Jesus stayed in close formation behind Tara, his pistol raised for any trouble to come.

  
He didn’t like breaking away from Maggie and the other Hilltopers but he disliked waiting on the sidelines even more. He couldn’t imagine how Kennedy was handling it.

  
Every step he took felt dangerous, every breath felt tense.

  
He felt a presence behind him but tried not to let it bug him too much, it was just Dianne, but he still felt twitchy and on edge.

  
It didn’t help that they made him draw his gun, he knew it was only smart to have it but he’d never liked them. From the weight of it in his hands to the feeling that one wrong move could set it off. He preferred hand to hand combat, it felt more...fair.

  
They rounded the corner into the entrance, staying close together.

  
A man stepped out into the hall.

  
Jesus was the first to pull the trigger, a loud popping sound filling the hallway.

  
The man fell.

  
Jesus didn’t give himself the time to pay attention to this before moving on.

  
Another two men came into view as they made their way down the hall of the satellite station.

  
Tara shot the first and Jesus hurriedly shot the second.

  
He met her eyes after they fell and then looked to Morgan.

  
_Clear._

  
Morgan nodded before turning back around and snapping at Dianne.

  
At this, Dianne whistled at the remaining members of their party.

  
The others hurried to join them.

  
Tara and Jesus shared one more look before continuing through the building.

  
The group branched out through the building, making sure no room was left unchecked.

  
They spread down a long hallway, holding for everyone to get into position. When everyone was where they were supposed to Jesus raised a fist in signal to hold.

  
He looked to Tara for confirmation but her eyes had caught on some writing on the wall.

  
_‘Tommy says “kill the bitches”.’_

  
Jesus frowned and eyed his partner carefully but Tara showed no emotion at the writing.

  
Jesus sighed and looked back to the people down the hall.

  
One of them nodded back at him.

  
Jesus lowered his fist, the act making his stomach drop along with it.

  
The group opened fire on the Saviors.

 

**....**

 

Kennedy was bored, and tired, and anxious, and angry, and a little bit hungry, and he was entirely uncertain to do with all of it. He’d been waiting in what was supposedly Maggie’s study for about an hour and no one had come to see him.

  
He didn’t blame them, he didn’t really want to see himself either.

  
But the books that lined the walls were all too boring to captivate his attention when he was feeling so anxious and Kennedy had nothing but his butterfly knife to keep him entertained and even the thin blade was starting to bore him. And that was when a bit of commotion outside got his attention.

  
**....**

 

Jesus and Tara pushed open a paint chipped door, guns at the ready.

  
The room looked empty at first but the rustling of clothes in a closet across the room alerted them to someone’s presence.

  
They hurried to the door, guns still raised.

  
Tara looked to Jesus and he nodded in response and with that she swiftly kicked down the door.

  
“Please don’t shoot me!” The man inside cried. “Please don’t shoot me, _please_ , don’t-“ he cut off with a sob.

  
Tara tilted her head to the side. “Oh look you pissed your pants.”

  
Jesus lowered the gun a bit at the sight before him.

  
“Look, I’m not one of them. My name’s Dean.”

  
Tara’s finger tightened on the trigger. “ _Why_ are you still talking?”

  
“Tara,” Jesus interrupted. “Wait.”

  
She sent him a scalding look.

  
“Just... wait.”

  
“For what?”

  
“He has his hands up, Tara.”

  
“We have a _job_ to do!”

  
They both looked back as shooting broke out back in the hallway.

  
Jesus quickly seized the opportunity. “You wanna go check that out?”

  
Tara gritted her teeth but still left him alone with the man.

  
Jesus spun back around, gun raised at Dean. “Come out.”

  
Dean stood carefully and stepped out of the closet.

  
More shooting came from the hallway.

  
“I got it, Jesus,” Tara said, moving to stand by him again. “Step aside.”

  
“ _Tara_ ,” Jesus warned.

  
“There’s a firefight outside we don’t even know if Morgan’s alive.”

  
“Please, lady, I’m not one of them,” Dean said.

  
“You’re here, you have a gun, you’re one of them.”

  
“I’m not, I’m not, you’ve gotta believe me.”

  
“Then what are you doing here?” Jesus asked. He needed a reason, needed something that could calm the grief-stricken Tara.

  
“I’m just a worker!” Dean insisted.

  
“They brought me from the Sanctuary. Cook, clean, y’know whatever. They do not give me a choice... they made me leave my wife and kids-“ he cut off with a sob. “Your people... you’re doing this at the Sanctuary too? Are the families okay?”

  
“We don’t want to hurt the workers,” Jesus insisted. “We’re not going to.”

  
“You _believe_ him?” Tara asked.

  
“It’s not about him!” Jesus said. “I’m not going to shoot anyone with their hands up and I’m not letting you.”

  
Tara looked to one of the shelves lining the walls. “These medical supplies... they’re the Hilltop’s, right?” She lifted one of the pill bottles. “Maggie’s prenatals? They took them because they could, because they don’t give a shit, so why should we?”

  
Jesus turned back to look at her. “I know they killed your girlfriend-“

  
“ _Jesus_ -“

  
“That you _loved_ her! This isn’t you!”

  
“It is now!”

  
Jesus shook his head. “We’re not here for revenge, it can’t be about that-“

  
“ _It can_.”

  
Shots erupted in the hallway again one of which broke the door window.

  
Jesus jumped and Dean took the opportunity to grab his gun and push him into one of the shelves.

  
Before he knew what was happening Jesus was being held up by Dean with a gun pressed to his head.

  
Tara hurriedly pointed her gun at the two of them.

  
Dean tucked his head behind Jesus’s, his breath tickling his neck. “I wouldn’t,” he said. “Y’know it’s funny, normally I wouldn’t have pegged you for the soft one, pretty boy.

  
Jesus bit back his annoyance at being tricked and tried to recall all his knowledge on breaking out of holds.

  
“Do you _know_ how hard it is piss yourself on purpose? It’s like your dick knows your wearing pants.”

  
Jesus winced as Dean pulled him closer and stomped on the dropped bottle of prenatal pills.

  
“Well look at that... all that shit is ruined. Looks like that dumb bitch Maggie and her kid are just gonna die anyway.”

  
Jesus worked his jaw as he tried to push away his anger.

  
“Just like you two.”

  
“I’m gonna kill you,” Tara said.

  
“Oh, how’re you gonna do that?”

  
“Or someone else will, there’s too many of us.”

  
“See that’s where we differ, see I take the two of you with me and that’ll be one hell of an insurance policy. So why don’t you put that thing down unless you’re gonna shoot this beautiful man here? I’m not gonna ask you again.”

  
Tara didn’t move.

  
Jesus met her eyes.

  
She didn’t waver.

  
“I think she’s gonna shoot you,” Jesus told him, a thin, primal kind of panic forming in his chest.

  
“I _am_ ,” Tara agreed.

  
“Yeah, she is.” Jesus tried to shift enough so Tara could get a clean shot without shooting him but Dean’s hold was firm.

  
“Shut up!” Dean yelled.

  
“ _Tara_ -“

  
“I can do it!” She insisted.

  
“Tara, he has a gun to my head,” Jesus reminded her.

  
“Not for long.”

  
“Wait, wait, wait,” Dean said.

  
“Go to hell!”

  
“Okay so...” he chuckled dryly. “You really wanna risk it, huh? Me for him? I can tell you right now that I am not worth it. I may talk big game like I’m a tough guy but I’m not... I really just wanna-“

  
He pointed the gun at Tara and Jesus took the opportunity to knock the gun from his hand and kick him to the ground, picking the gun up as he fell.

  
Jesus straightened, pointing the gun at Dean but...

  
“You’re not gonna do it...” Dean said. “Not _you_.”

  
“It’s not about revenge it’s about getting it _done_ ,” Tara encouraged.

  
But Dean’s eyes bored into his own, desperate, afraid.

  
Jesus clenched his jaw and sighed before hitting Dean across the head with the butt of his pistol.

  
Dean collapsed to the floor.

  
Jesus grabbed a roll of twine from one of the shelves and got to work at tying him up.

  
“What the hell?” Tara said, outraged. “He tried to _kill_ us!”

  
“I told you,” Jesus said, blowing his hair from his face. “It’s not about him.”

 

**....**

 

As soon as Maggie caught sight of Kennedy she grabbed onto him and didn’t let go. The relief of seeing her brother was almost enough to wash away the tension of war, almost.

  
“I’m sorry I left you behind,” she murmured against his neck.

  
Kennedy stiffened a bit but he didn’t pull away. “It’s fine,” He said cautiously.

  
“No, it was a dick move, you can take care of yourself.”

  
At that he did pull back, eyebrows drawn in confusion. “Did something happen?”

  
“No,” Maggie started. “No, I just- I was worried about you being here is all.”

  
Kennedy scoffed. “Sounds like you would’ve worried either way.”

  
Maggie smiled softly.

  
“Where’s Paul?” Kennedy asked after a beat, looking behind her.

  
Maggie grinned fiendishly. _“‘Paul’?”_

  
Kennedy’s cheeks turned a bit pink and he rolled his eyes. “Sorry, _Jesus_.”

  
Maggie just shook her head, smiling. “He’s taking out the satellite station.”

  
All amusement on Kennedy’s face faded at that. “Now?”

  
Maggie nodded. “I filled you in, didn’t I?”

  
“Yeah, but I didn’t think you meant directly after, after.”

  
Maggie scoffed. “He can handle himself, Ken.”

  
“He got shot a couple of days ago... couldn’t you have let him sit out for one?” Kennedy prodded.

  
“He’s almost healed thanks to your super healing powers and besides, he wouldn’t let me make him sit out, even if I wanted to.”

  
Kennedy looked like he was about to protest when Enid interrupted.

  
“Do you think he’ll come back?” She asked, coming up on Maggie’s side.

  
At Kennedy’s confused look she elaborated. “Gregory.”

  
Maggie sighed at the name.

  
“‘ _Gregory_ ’? Who’s that?”

  
Enid gave him a sympathetic look. “He used to run this place... before Maggie came that is.”

  
“He’s an idiot,” Maggie explained. “And a coward. He tried selling us out to Negan.”

  
Kennedy frowned. “If he sold you out then why would he come back?”

  
Maggie frowned. “Because he has nowhere else to go.”

 

**....**

 

Maggie’s tour was incredibly uncomfortable due to the tension in the community. Everyone was waiting tensely as if a bomb was going to go off any second and Kennedy’s presence didn’t help. Maggie insisted she hadn’t told anyone about where he’d been before but he could tell the Hilltopers knew. It was in their eyes, the way they followed him everywhere he went, the way some of them averted when he came near, and the way they pitied and hated him.

  
It made him feel heavy inside, _judged._

  
Maggie gestured to a trailer that was positioned a short ways away from the big house. “That’s Jesus’s, If you wanna pay him a visit,” she teased.

  
Kennedy couldn’t help but chuckle at the joke, if not a bit nervously. “Don’t be a dick.” But he still made sure to remember which one it was.

  
_To check in is all_. He told himself.

  
Maggie seemed to sense this and smiled, bumping shoulders it’s him.

  
“So what’ll I be doing here?” Kennedy asked as they made for the wall.

  
Maggie shrugged. “Whatever you want.”

  
“Aren’t you supposed to be a leader? Boss me around, make me do your laundry-“

  
“I’m not going to _make_ you do anything.”

  
Kennedy sighed. “Just,” He looked around at the remaining residents and lowered his voice. “Maybe they’d like me more if I contributed.”

  
Maggie shook her head and cupped his face. “They already like you.”

  
Kennedy snorted pulling back.

  
“They do.”

  
“They _hate_ me.”

  
“They have to like you, you’re my brother.”

  
Kennedy raised a brow, amused. “‘ _Have to_ ’? Are you gonna make them like me, Mags?”

  
“If I have to,” she replied.

  
Kennedy just gave her a pleading look.

  
“Fine,” Maggie sighed. “Fine, you helped with the sick at the prison, right? You can help with the wounded and sick. I saw your patch job on Jesus, pretty good given your resources.”

  
Kennedy put a hand over his chest, feigning betrayal as they neared the forge. “You’ve been ogling my boyfriend?”

  
“Ha! I knew it!”

  
“ _Joke_!”

  
“ _Nope_! You admitted it!”

  
“No, no, I didn’t.”

  
“You _love_ him!”

  
“We just met!”

  
“And you _love_ him!”

  
“What’re you twelve?”

  
“Maggie!” Their giggles were cut off by Enid’s careful voice.

  
Maggie frowned and looked up to the girl, suddenly serious.

  
“It’s _him_. He has Gabriel’s car.”

  
Immediately Maggie’s joy was replaced by annoyance. She moved to stand by the gate, her mouth thinning as the unmistakable sounds of a car nearing stopped.

  
There was a brief moment of awkward silence then behind the gate, a car door opened then closed and then someone was banging on the gate.

  
“Open the gate!” A frail-sounding voice yelled.

  
Enid looked down at Maggie then started climbing down the ladder of the lookout.

  
“I need help! I’ve been through _hell_!”

  
Kennedy arched a brow at the voice.

  
Enid came around to stand by Maggie. “What do we do?” She looked nervous.

  
The man banged on the gate some more.

  
“ _This_ the guy who sold you out?” Kennedy asked.

  
Maggie looked up to Kal. “Open it, just a crack.”

  
Kal didn’t look too happy about this but he obeyed.

  
The gate groaned as it opened, revealing a flighty looking man in a suit.

  
When the gate stopped opening he frowned. “Is the gate broken? I told them to oil the-“ he cut off as he saw Maggie, realization dawning on him. “The gate's not broken.”

  
“What are you doin’ with Gabriel’s car?” Maggie demanded. “Where is he?”

  
“I don’t know who that is,” Gregory insisted. “The car was just... there.”

  
“So what are you doin’ here?”

  
“I live here,” Gregory said. “This is my home. I built this place, you weren’t here for that but some of us didn’t just show up.”

  
“ _Shut your damn mouth_!”

  
Kennedy almost jumped a bit at his sister’s sudden rise in tone. It hadn’t been uncommon for Maggie to yell when she was mad when they were young, in fact, it’d been fairly common. But she had seemingly grown out of that when she went to college.

  
“You’re just gonna stand there and pretend you didn’t try to sell us out, sell this place out to the Saviors.”

  
“I was working on the side of sanity,” Gregory said. “Working for peace.”

  
“You threatened to kick people out.”

  
“I was trying to save lives, now those people are cannon fodder.”

  
“Those people are fighting for a better life.”

  
Gregory sighed, frustrated. “Look, the throwing the families out line was Negan’s, he made me say those awful things. I went to them i-in y’know, in the interest of furthering good faith and diplomacy. I tried to save lives. Some people without opinions colored by a preoccupation with vengeance might call that heroic.”

  
There was a brief pause and Kennedy thoroughly considered squeezing through the gate to punch Gregory in the face but Maggie spoke up before he could.

  
“You went there for yourself, to betray us, to warn Negan we were gonna fight. That’s what you told Kal when you dragged him there, it’s why he _left_ you there.”

  
Gregory scoffed. “ _Kal_? Kal is delusional.”

  
“What the hell?” Kal’s voice floated down from the lookout.

  
“Kal,” Gregory greeted. “Come on, y’know you can be dramatic, you know that thing with the sorghum pancakes.”

  
“You mean when you ate a little girl's pancakes?”

  
“I did not eat those pancakes!” He sighed. “Listen for what it’s worth I caused exactly zero harm to your cause, Negan already knew everything.”

  
Kennedy gritted his teeth at the words.

  
He wondered if Negan knew he was with Rick and Maggie yet. He’d killed the Saviors at the store but he wouldn’t be surprised if the information got back to him somehow.

  
“Goodbye, Gregory.” Maggie spun around and started back towards the house.

  
Kennedy and Enid didn’t hesitate to follow, ignoring Gregory’s pleas until Maggie stopped.

  
“Alright, I went there because I was scared, I knew you were gonna fight and I- I didn’t want to be complicit, because I didn’t think you could win. But I see now what you saw all along; the Saviors can’t be reasoned with. Fighting them is the only way, I was _wrong_. I made a mistake and I’m sorry.”

  
Enid looked nervously between the cracked gate and Maggie.

  
“ _Please_ , Maggie,” Gregory pleaded. “We’re all just humans with faults and fears.”

  
There was a long pause where Maggie didn’t move, considering.

  
“I-Is this who you are?” Gregory shouted. “Do you have no _mercy_? Have you no humanity, no charity? Please, open the gate. Open your heart,” he sobbed. “Don’t leave another human being out here to _die_.”

  
Maggie clenched her jaw then turned back to Kal calmly. “Let him in.”

  
Kennedy sighed.

  
The gate squealed as Kal reluctantly opened it.

  
Enid moved to stand beside Maggie. “With everything he did? Why?”

  
Maggie’s mouth thinned until it was a line. “Because he’s not worth killing.”

  
Gregory stumbled through the open gates, acting like he’d been on a weeklong trek through the Sahara desert.

  
“Not _yet_ anyway.”

  
“You won’t regret this,” Gregory insisted, approaching as if he were calming a wild animal. “I’ve changed, I’m a believer now.”

  
Maggie didn’t acknowledge this, she just turned back to the house waving at Kennedy to join her. “I have something for you.”

  
Kennedy raised a brow but Kal interrupted before he could ask.

  
“Uh, _Maggie_!”

  
The sound of cars pulling up to the gate was familiar but from the uncomfortable look of Kal’s face, it wasn’t good news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, that was chapter 15 as you can probably tell we’re slowly but surely catching up with the show. I seriously cannot wait for it to come back on. I need more writing material!!!  
> I think I will be writing a bit of the time jump so once we catch up I won’t be going immediately into the new season but I’d at least like to have a direction to head towards.  
> Welp, I hope you liked it! Next chapter will be out on the sixteenth!!!  
> P.S. I've finally edited the very first chapter so it's formatted correctly and not just a huge chunk of text so if you reread it'll be slightly different.  
> Kudos give me good grades and comments make me smarter.


	16. Our Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hershel confronts Kennedy about what he saw in the bedroom. Later, Kennedy and Maggie have a talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, my internet hates me.  
> This one is kinda short but if I remember correctly the next one is a lot longer  
> So there's been some problems with my internet where I have to turn my internet off then on again every five minutes to get it to work so this might actually end up technically being uploaded on the 17th instead of the 16th, sorry. Hope you like it anyway. (note: about fifteen minutes after I typed this my internet went out)  
> P.S. The whole chickens being evil is 100% true, trust me I'd know and scratch is this stuff you feed them to make them lay better? Idk what it's really for just that I had to feed it to ours for like three years.  
> TW for mentions of suicide, self harm, rape, and animal death. Although I bet you're kinda used to all that if you've made it this far.

BEFORE

 

Kennedy had always hated the chickens on the farm. They were evil little beasts that were just as likely to peck you for trying to steal their eggs as they were to lay them. They were always the most uncomfortable animals to tend to on the farm, especially because whoever had to care for them was the one who had to dispose of their bodies whenever they inevitably pecked each other to death or got partially eaten by a fox. Kennedy himself had to dispose of their tiny corpses more often then he would’ve liked to so when Maggie finally went to college leaving an open spot for him to take over her chores of tending to the horses he’d been excited. But apparently, after being gone for a year and a half he was demoted back to the chickens.

  
Kennedy sighed as he threw out some scratch for the flock, gently nudging them with his feet as they got under him.

  
The rooster screamed at him.

  
Kennedy threw some scratch at his face.

  
The rooster didn’t seem to mind this.

  
It wasn’t common for the Greene family to keep their roosters, most of the little evil bastards were thrown out of the coop early on for abusing the hens but apparently, this one was smart enough not to cause much trouble.

  
The door to the coop squealed open and Kennedy turned half expecting for it to be Maggie coming to apologize for the other day, but to his shock, it was none other than Hershel Greene.

  
Kennedy gritted his teeth and got back to spreading the scratch, half expecting his father to ignore him.

  
But instead: “You went to see your mother and brother,” Hershel’s voice was a bit more strained than usual. “I told you not to.”

  
Kennedy nudged another hen with his foot and shook his head.

  
His father hadn’t said so much to him in years.

  
“They aren’t sick,” Kennedy said, trying and failing to make his voice sound firm.

  
“They are,” Hershel shot back, checking the chicken's water tank. “Just you wait and see, soon they’re going to come with vaccines and-“

  
“‘ _They’_? Who the hell is _‘they’_ , dad?”

  
“The government, the CDC, the military, _I don’t know_!” Hershel’s voice raised a bit. “I don’t know but they _will_ come.” And with that, he left Kennedy alone with the chickens.

 

AFTER

 

Kennedy couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing as the gates to the Hilltop opened to reveal dozens of Saviors trailing behind cars. _Their_ cars. The cars sent out to help aid in fighting them. For a brief terrifying second Kennedy didn’t process the ropes tying the Saviors together, he imagined a scenario where the convoy sent to the satellite station was ambushed and taken hostage and commanded to lead the way to the Hilltop for revenge.  
But then he caught sight of Jesus in his trench coat at the front of the party; looking fairly calm, not at all like he was being forced to do something distasteful.

  
Maggie was frozen at the sight for a solid five seconds before her reality seemed to shatter and she stomped forward with a quick; “Stay here,”

  
Kennedy obeyed if only because the sight of all the Saviors made his insides twist uncomfortably.

  
Enid followed Maggie, casting Kennedy a quick worried look as she ran to catch up with her.

  
Maggie stopped a good ways in front of Jesus, asking him a question though Kenny couldn’t understand what it was.

  
Jesus replied.

  
Maggie frowned.

  
Then, Gregory stepped in. “We are not letting them in! No way!”

  
Dread settled in Kennedy’s gut as he started for the entrance.

  
“With what they did? With what the _do_? They are monsters!”

  
“ _Gregory!_ ” Jesus cut in sharply.

  
Kennedy settled in by Enid, his skin crawling as realization really started to settle in.

  
“No! This is not a sanctuary for killers. We’d be putting the safety of everyone in jeopardy-“

  
“Get out of here,” Maggie cut in.

  
“I know what they are, I have stared into the face of-“

  
“ _Gregory!_ ” Maggie said through her teeth, it was the same way she’d talk to Kennedy and Beth when they would act up when they were little.

  
Gregory looked rightfully chastised before turning back.

  
“He actually came back after all of that,” Jesus observed.

  
“Yeah, and I actually let him in.” She sounded like she was already starting to regret the decision.

  
Tara came up beside them. “No offense, Jesus, but I kinda agree with that prick.”

  
“There are families here,” Maggie agreed. “Children.”

  
“There are too empty trailers out back we could lock them up in there with round the clock guards until this whole thing blows over. Go from there.”

  
Maggie paused before replying. “You know what they’ve done to us, what they’ve taken from us.”

  
“Of course I do,” Jesus said, looking helpless. “But they surrendered.”

  
Maggie shook her head a bit. “ _Jesus_.”

  
Jesus laughed a bit, his eyes trailing as if he were trying to think of an argument before they went back to Maggie’s. “We can’t let them go and we can’t kill them.”

  
The silence was palpable between them.

  
“We _can’t_ ,” he insisted.

 

BEFORE

 

Eventually, Shawn and Annette were moved though Kennedy didn’t know where. He asked his father one evening what had become of them and Hershel had simply replied; “I took care of it.” Kennedy didn’t like to think too much on what that meant but he liked to think his stepmother and brother were at peace.

  
Weeks passed quietly as they did on the farm. The TV and phone still didn’t work but they never used either much to begin with so it was easier to pretend everything was normal. They spent their days tending to the animals giving them fresh feed and water but not hay, never hay.

  
Maggie said that the hayloft was falling apart and that the barn was becoming so unstable that Hershel was afraid for anybody but him and occasionally Otis to go in it. Kennedy accepted that without much question, he’d never really liked hauling hay to begin with.

 

AFTER

  
**....**

  
Kennedy didn’t talk to Jesus after the gates closed and prisoners were lined up against the outer walls which was disappointing to say the least. He wanted to ask him what he thought of the Hilltop, he wanted to ask if he’d had any trouble getting there, or if he needed anything. But as soon as Maggie had shut them out Kennedy had gone in with her.

  
It had been a bit disorienting to see Kennedy within the walls of the Hilltop after getting so used to seeing him in Alexandria but it was a good kind of disorienting. The kind that brought a good kind of change.

  
Although Jesus didn’t like the idea of being locked out he understood Maggie’s hesitancy, she’d lost a lot due to the Saviors.

  
But it felt wrong just to execute them. It had been one thing when they had fought back but... it wasn’t right to kill the ones who surrendered and though Jesus was a patient man he was a bit frustrated with her inability to understand that fact. At least not yet.

  
He had faith in her as their leader, unlike Gregory.

  
_Gregory._

  
Jesus winced at the mere thought of the man.

  
He was likely trying to get Maggie’s ear but Jesus didn’t doubt that she wouldn’t allow it.

  
“Here.” Someone tapped his arm and it took some effort not to flinch at the sudden touch.

  
Jesus turned a bit, remaining calm despite his initial urge to bolt.

  
 _Kal_ , just Kal.

  
“Um,” Kal started, holding out a sack to him. “I thought maybe.. for them...” he looked supremely uncomfortable.

 

  
Jesus hesitantly took the sack and looked inside.

  
Turnips.

  
Jesus raised a brow.

  
“For them,” Kal explained a bit distastefully. “It’d suck if they all starved and turned on us, wouldn’t it?”

  
Jesus smiled at the sack then at Kal. “Thank you.”

  
Kal shrugged. “Don’t mention it, man.”

  
Jesus started for the prisoners, trying to ignore the way their eyes followed him, assessing their chances of escape despite their previous failure, and handed out their turnips.

 

**....**

 

Maggie sat at Gregory’s old desk, a hand against her temple.

  
She didn’t know where Gregory had gone off to and she didn’t particularly care as long as she didn’t have to deal with him any longer.

  
Kennedy, on the other hand, had been offered a bedroom on the top floor, the nicest in the building.

  
Maggie felt like she was trying to impress him, no- not impress, convince. She was trying to convince him. To stay, to live, to be happy.

  
All she really wanted was for him to be happy... and for her to live long enough to see it.

  
Maggie pressed her free hand to her stomach.

  
She wasn’t showing yet but she could feel her baby inside her, it was a pressure, a weight in her stomach. It was oddly comforting where it had once been truly and utterly terrifying.

  
Scratch that, she also wanted her baby to be happy.

  
“What do I do?” She asked her stomach, not that she expected it to reply.

  
Maggie respected Jesus, she knew he cared about the community and the people in it but his distance from it worried her. He was a good person but he was already separating himself from the group from his constant supply runs to his merciful ideals. It wouldn’t take too much more for one side to crack and Maggie didn’t think she could lead the people of the Hilltop without him.

  
She sighed and leaned back in her (previously Gregory’s) leather desk chair.

  
It was becoming immensely difficult for her to balance her seething hatred of the Saviors and logic.

  
She desperately wanted them all dead, for Kennedy, for Sasha, for Glenn. But she also knew Glenn would never condone the execution of over a dozen unarmed men.

  
That left only one option then.

 

**....**

 

Kennedy leaned over the walls, watching sleepily as a stray walker stumbled towards them through the field.

  
“Hey.”

  
Kennedy jumped at the voice, turning to see Maggie pull herself up onto the platform. “ _Hey_ ,” he replied as his heart rate returned to normal.

  
“What are you doing out here?” Maggie asked, her brows furrowed in concern.

  
“I told Markus I’d take his shift, I needed some space to think.”

  
Maggie frowned. “Do you want me to leave?”

  
Kennedy gave his sister a small smile and shook his head as he turned back towards the Hilltop.

  
Maggie moved to stand beside him, looking like she was approaching a wild animal. “Are you alright?”

  
Kennedy smiled again but it was watery. He shook his head.

  
Maggie placed a firm hand on his shoulder.

  
Kennedy looked at his beat up shoes and tried to compose himself then stopped. He thought of what Gabriel said and sighed. He was right.

  
“ _Fuck_.” Tears streamed down his cheeks and his chest ached.

  
Maggie looked almost scared as she wrapped her arm around his shoulders. “Kenny, what’s wrong?”

  
Kennedy laughed but it sounded a bit crazed as tears streaked his face. “Everything.”

  
Maggie shook her head. “Come inside, I can make you some tea and we can talk.”

  
Kennedy knew if he waited any longer he’d chicken out so he shook his head. “I’m really scared, Mags.”

  
Maggie stoked his hair. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  
“Mags, I’m not scared of something happening to me.”

  
Maggie froze.

  
“You’re the only family that I have left and-“ he choked on a sob. “I know Negan, he’s smart.”

  
Maggie shook her head. “We’re smarter.”

  
“He’ll find something, do something as a last resort, we’re cornering him and he _will_ bite back.”

  
“And we’ll bite harder,” Maggie pressed. “I’m not going to let him take anything else from me, I’m not going to let the man who imprisoned my brother just get away with that-“

  
“He didn’t imprison me, Mags,” Kennedy said. “I _agreed_ to marry him, I need you to know that, I need you to _accept_ that.”

  
“But you didn’t want to,” Maggie insisted.

  
“But I did do it.”

  
Maggie shook her head and turned back to the house.

  
“Maggie, _look_ at me.”

  
She didn’t, she was shaking but Kennedy couldn’t tell if it was from anger or the cold.

  
“Father Gabriel said you never figured out why I tried to kill myself the second time.”

  
At that her eyes shot to him, wide and confused.

  
“It wasn’t because of you, or dad, or anyone except for me. I just-“ Kennedy laughed and swiped at his wet cheeks. “I just got really tired of living.”

  
Maggie’s brows furrowed and she suddenly looked close to tears. “I know you said yes to him, Ken. But I can’t just...” she sighed. “Saying that just feels too close to excusing it.”

  
Kennedy shook his head. “You aren’t.”

  
Tears welled in Maggie’s eyes. “He- he hurt you, he _raped_ you and I can’t... just _let_ that go.”

  
“I’m not asking you to.”

  
“Then what are you asking me to do?”

  
Kennedy eyed where the POW’s slept. “To say that you don’t blame me?”

  
Maggie looked surprised, she turned to face him fully and took his face between her palms. “I could never blame you for the shit he’s done, ever. Do you understand?” There was a fierceness in her eyes that burned right through him.

  
Kennedy suddenly felt exhausted. “But back at Alexandria at lunch with the others when-"

  
“I was just mad, Kennedy. At him and at Rick but never at you.”

  
Kennedy took a steadying breath and leaned his forehead against Maggie’s. “I love you.”

  
She smiled. “I love you too.”

  
They stayed like that for awhile but eventually pulled apart to eye the space beyond the wall.

  
“So...” Maggie started after about twenty minutes. “ _Jesus_.”

  
Kennedy rubbed his now tear free face. “Mags-“

  
“I’m not pushing,” Maggie insisted. “But he’s cute, right?”

  
“He just invited a bunch of Saviors into our home.”

  
Maggie grinned. “ _Our home_.”

  
Kennedy scoffed but he was smiling too. “Don’t get all sappy on me now.”

  
“But really, _Jesus_ -“

  
“Oh my god, _Mags_!”

  
Maggie laughed and bumped shoulders with him. “He brought them because... that’s just the way he is.”

  
Kennedy squinted at his sister. “Why’d you agree to keep them out there?”

  
“Because It didn’t feel right killing them all yet.”

  
Kennedy looked back to the field, frowning. “If you can’t then-“

  
“No, Kenny, just-“ she sighed. “ _No_.”

  
Kennedy closed his eyes. “They’re soldiers, not the workers, not the wives, they’re the ones that would’ve blown holes in these walls if we didn’t stop them first.”

  
“And we’ve stopped them,” Maggie insisted.

  
Kennedy just shook his head.

  
“Look,” Maggie sighed. “I don’t like this either, but I’m not going to let them do anything.”

  
“That’s not something we can really control now is it?”

  
Maggie laughed a bit and looked down the wall where the Saviors slept below. “We’ll do what we have to. I don’t care about them, not really. I just want Negan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo yo yo.  
> I have a dentist apointment tomorrow and I wanna die.  
> So that was chapter 16! Yay! I hope you enjoyed it, the next one should be a lot longer and I belive around chapter 19 we will be having a lot happen. Like... a lot, a lot.  
> So I've been rewatching the last season for awhile now as I write because I cant remember what's happened and I didnt realize when I first watched it how little Jesus is actually in the show. What's up with that? Hopefully he'll have a larger roll to play in the next season. Even beyond this fic I just really enjoy his character and I think the writers could do a lot of interesting things with him.  
> The next chapter should be up on the 10th of October.  
> Kudos remind me to eat before my appointment tomorrow and comments lighten my fear of the suction thingy.


	17. The Right Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kennedy struggles with the knowledge of what's in the barn. Later, Kennedy has a hard time adapting to life in the Hilltop with the Saviors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s been a busy week my dudes. I just got a new phone the other day and it’s acting all crazy atm so it’s not syncing with my old phone which means all of my notes (which is where I write this fic) are on my old phone and I’m trying to figure out a way to transfer them over without iCloud because I don’t trust that shit with my fanfic baby.  
> Anyway, who else is excited for this season of TWD? I know a lot of people were really upset after the last season and after it was announced that Andrew Lincoln was leaving but I do have high hopes for this season. I think the main problem with the show is that it’s creators are always looking to escalate things instead of actually putting any complex thought into the characters but this season seems a bit more character heavy which I like.  
> But other than that I'm super excited to have new content to write about! As a fic writer it's difficult to find motivation when the thing your content is based on is on hiatus. But now I have canon content! And I have tons of ideas that I can't wait for y'all to read.  
> This one strays a bit more from canon (for like a second) but there's a reason for it I swear.  
> P.S. THEY CREATED A CHARACTER NAMED JUSTIN AND MADE HIM A DICK AND ALSO A CHARACTER NAMED KEN AND KILLED HIM OFF RIGHT AWAY THIS IS nOT OKAY I'M SCREAMING

Kennedy watched hesitantly as Jesus brought the Saviors into the make shift prison.

A few watched him back as they were lead in either recognizing him or determining how much of a threat he was and he couldn’t imagine he looked like much in their eyes.

  
He recognized a few of them as Saviors from different outposts, he rarely actually communicated with them but they knew who he was, it had been a bit of a scandal when Negan had chosen Kennedy as his first husband.

  
One in particular, Jared, stared at him with a knowing grin.

  
Kennedy had to bite back his anger.

  
Why were they letting them in again?

  
Jesus came to stand next to him. “This is the right thing to do,” he said as if reading his thoughts.

  
Kennedy just shook his head.

  
“We will not tolerate _any_ less than complete cooperation.” Kennedy heard Maggie say.

  
At that exact moment Jared broke away from the line, his bonds now somehow cut and ran straight for Kennedy. He had a thin blade pressed to Kennedy’s neck before he knew what was happening and pressed the blade hard enough to his skin that he felt blood begin to swell beneath the blade.

  
Just like that, a dozen guns were pointed their way.

  
“Hold your fire!” Maggie yelled.

  
“I remember you,” Jared said against the shell of Kennedy’s ear. “Negan threw one hell of a tantrum when you left.” Then to Maggie: “I’ll kill him! You know I will!”

  
Nausea rolled in Kennedy’s stomach at the feel of Jared’s lips against his skin, alarms in his brain screaming at the familiarity of the unwanted touch.

  
“Give me your gun. I’m taking you back with me.”

  
Kennedy didn’t move.

  
Jared pressed the blade harder to his throat and pulled him closer with his free hand. “Your gun, _now_.”

  
His stomach roiling at the contact, Kennedy placed his right hand atop Jared’s and tucked his chin against it; once the blade was far enough away from his skin he rammed his free elbow into Jared’s side.

  
Jared stumbles off of him with a breathless gasp.

  
Kennedy pulled away violently and spun back toward him in the same breath, his gun aimed at Jared's head.

  
Then, Jesus was there.

  
“Don’t,” He said calmly, as though it were that simple.

  
Kennedy gave him an incredulous look.

  
“He’s just scared.”

  
Kennedy almost laughed. “ _Bullshit_.”

  
“How would you feel if you were in his position?”

  
“You don’t know _anything_ about them.”

  
_About us._

  
He nearly said it. Nearly. And probably would have if Maggie weren’t fifteen feet away.

  
“I know that they’re people,” Jesus said as if it were a blow to end an argument.

  
Kennedy just shook his head but lowered his gun anyway.

  
Jared laughed. “Was Negan to rough with you? Was that it? It must be if you’re fucking this guy now.”

  
Kennedy walked away.

  
“If I knew puppies and kittens nice guy was your kind of thing I would’ve told people to start calling me Jesus months ago.”

  
Jesus kicked him across the jaw.

  
Kennedy headed for the house. Didn’t stop to watch as the guards took Jared’s knife away, didn’t stop to watch as he made to grab for Maggie and she hit him... twice, didn’t stop to watch as she hauled Gregory in after him.

  
He flung the door open and then flung it shut again when he got in the house. He stomped up the stairs making a thunder storm of noise as he flew up to the top floor and flung one of the doors open. It was a bedroom. It would do.

  
He was about to fling the door shut again but a hand caught it halfway.

  
_Jesus._

  
Kennedy’s anger consumed him.

  
“Are you okay?”

  
“I’m _fine_.”

  
“You’re bleeding.”

  
“It’s just a scratch.” Kennedy shook his head, wiping away the blood with his sleeve. “What were you thinking?”

  
Jesus looked surprised as if he hadn’t expected Kennedy to be angry. “We can’t kill them, _we won’t_.”

  
“Maybe _you_ won’t-“

  
“No, _we_ won’t. You heard what Maggie said; they aren’t to be mistreated.”

  
Actually, he hadn’t heard that, he’d been too focused on the group of Saviors they were bringing in through their doors.

  
“They’re Saviors,” Kennedy said incredulously. “You think they’ll offer you the same curtesy? They won’t.”

  
“ _Exactly_ , this is about being better than them.” Jesus’s patient voice only further infuriated him.

  
Kennedy shook his head again, at a loss for words. “You can’t be this stupid.”

  
“If stupid is refusing to kill a group of people who surrendered to us then yes, I’m that stupid.”

  
Kennedy opened his mouth to further his point but was cut short by a concerned voice.

  
“Kenny?” Maggie called from the hallway.

  
Kennedy swallowed his anger but it didn’t go away, not when he couldn’t tear his gaze from Jesus’s face.

  
“In here.” His voice sounded raw and exhausted in his ears.

  
Maggie peaked her head into the room and then hurried to Kennedy when she realized he was there.

  
“Are you okay? Did he cut you?”

  
“It’s just a scratch.”

  
Maggie placed a hand on his jaw and pushed until he was staring up at the ceiling so she could examine his wounds.

  
When he finally looked back down after Maggie had looked her fill Jesus was gone.

 

BEFORE

 

Time passed with ease and after a month and a half Kennedy had almost managed to forget why they couldn’t leave.

  
Beth’s boyfriend had become a regular in their routine, he only ever left to help with chores and spend time with Beth. Otis and Portia had already been a fixture in the house so their presence wasn’t odd anymore. And Hershel had finally gotten back to ignoring Kennedy presence, it wasn’t necessarily comfortable but it was normal, at the very least.

 

AFTER

 

Kennedy ignored Jesus for the rest of the day. He didn’t want to argue with someone he cared about, didn’t want to argue his point because he knew he wouldn’t be understood.

  
Kennedy instead spent most of his day helping out however he could.

  
After they got used to him the Hilltopers didn’t seem to mind his presence and they actually seemed like they liked him after he weeded the garden, took a shift on the wall and organized their rations.

  
It wasn’t that he felt guilty for his time at the Sanctuary-well, actually, he did. He felt very guilty and that guilt combined with his need to ignore Jesus made for a fairly comfortable compromise.

  
Kennedy did chores therefore improving his image in the eyes of the Hilltopers and he didn’t have to see Jesus all day. Win win.

  
He was checking the rain catcher when it happened.

  
“You’re Kennedy, right?”

  
Kenny spun at the voice then froze as he realized it was one of the Saviors that was speaking to him.

  
The Savior had wavy brown hair and a beard and he must’ve seen Kennedy’s hesitancy to speak with him because he quickly raised his hands in faux surrender. “I used to work at the Sanctuary when you first got there.”

  
Kennedy lowered the tarp he’d been holding.

  
“I didn’t think about it much at the time, about you and the girls. I’m sorry about that. I’m Alden.” He held out his hand but he didn’t look like he actually expected Kennedy to shake it.

  
When he didn’t he dropped it and nodded understandingly. “I heard what happened when you left, with Tom.”

  
Kennedy gritted his teeth. “If you think I’m going to help you because-“

  
“No,” Alden cut in. “No, no, I just-“ He laughed a bit and ran a hand through his hair. “I was friends with Justin, before they moved me, and I thought you might want to know that he’s okay.”

  
“What are you telling him?” Maggie appeared from behind Kennedy.

  
Alden shook his head. “I was just-“

  
“I’d prefer if you kept yourself.” There was a clear warning in her voice which Alden obediently responded to by retreating back into the prison.

  
“That wasn’t necessary,” Kennedy said when Alden didn’t seem to be paying attention anymore.

  
“Who’s Justin?” Maggie asked carefully.

  
Kennedy frowned and shrugged. “He was with the Saviors when I was there, he was nice, let me go when he caught me.”

  
Maggie raised a brow and smiled a bit mischievously.

  
“Okay, what is your _deal_ lately?”

  
“What do you mean?” She was still smiling.

  
“Why are you trying to set me up with every guy I interact with?”

  
“Oh _please._ ” Maggie rolled her eyes.

  
“It’s true and you know it,” Kennedy said, starting for the house.

  
Maggie bumped shoulders with him when he got close enough, giving him a small smile as she did so.

  
Kennedy wrinkled his nose at her. “What’s got you all chipper?”

  
Maggie gave him an annoyed look. “I’m not, I just think it’s cute.”

  
“What is?"

  
Maggie grinned.

  
“What _is_ your issue?”

  
Maggie chuckled. “How long are you gonna keep it up?”

  
Kennedy frowned. “Keep _what_ up?”

  
“The _wronged lover_ act.”

  
It took too long for him to realize what his sister meant. “Oh, _fuck you_.”

  
”You can't deny it, ” Maggie chuckled. ”you just want him to apologize and give you attention.”

  
”Okay, double fuck you.”

  
Maggie rolled her eyes. ”You're just angry because your boyfriend isn't consulting you on major decisions anymore.”

  
Kennedy gritted his teeth and shook his head. ” I'm angry because he brought a bunch of dangerous rapists and murders into me and my sister's home.”

  
Maggie gave him a calculated look. ”He's doing what he thinks is right,” she corrected.

  
Kennedy eyed her suspiciously. “What the fuck happened to your ‘ _they don’t deserve mercy_ ’ shtick?”

  
“What happened to your ‘ _give them a chance_ ’ shtick?” Maggie shot back.

  
“These aren’t the wives or the workers, these are the soldiers, these are the people who would’ve been fighting to uphold Negan’s ideals.”

  
Maggie eyed the prisoners. “And you’re sure of that? Every single one of them?”

  
Kennedy ground his teeth and looked back to the house.

  
At that Maggie sighed and patted him on the shoulder. “I don’t like it, but I’m not going to line them all up and shoot them down. We’re better than that, and they give us an advantage.”

  
Kennedy shook his head, not wanting to give into his sister’s logic.

  
Maggie gave him a brief teasing look before turning back to the house. “Come on, I have a present for you.”

  
Kennedy raised an eyebrow but didn’t give in. “I was fixing the rain catcher.”

  
“No, you were breaking it so you could fix it later and avoid Jesus some more.”

  
Kennedy scowled at his sister but obediently followed her into the house.

  
“I found it a few months back when we were on the road, I’d been really upset at the time, thinking you were dead n’ all so at first, I wanted to break it but...” she lead the way into the study, opening the desk and pulling out a flat object. “Glenn convinced me to hold onto it.”

  
Hesitantly, Kennedy reached out and took the object from Maggie.

  
“It was your guy’s favorite, right? You and Beth?”

  
Kennedy had to blink a couple times to make sure what he was seeing was real.

  
A vinyl edition of The Beatles’ Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band.

  
Memories came fluttering back suddenly, memories of dancing in the living room at age six, memories of dragging out Kennedy’s mom’s old record player so they could listen to it while they cleaned out stalls, memories of stoking Beth’s pale blond hair as she cried into Kennedy’s shoulder after she got dumped for the first time.

  
Kennedy blinked up at Maggie. “Thank you."

  
Maggie smiled and stroked his cheek with her thumb. “Take a break, Ken.”

  
Kennedy nodded then frowned as he caught sight of something behind Maggie. “Mags,” he started. “What the fuck is that?”

  
Maggie looked behind her and sighed at the crib pressed against the wall. “That’s Gracie.”

 

BEFORE

 

Kennedy’s back ached with effort as he bent over to pluck green beans from one of the dozens of green bean plants in the garden. Working on the garden wasn’t usually too bad but every time the green beans were ready to be harvested the work went from watering plants and pulling weeds to hours of rifling through plants that made his skin itch to find green beans of all things. Kennedy didn’t even _like_ green beans.

  
“You need some help?” Maggie asked, coming up behind him.

  
Kennedy wrinkled his nose as he deposited a green bean in a bucket full of green beans. “Do what you want.”

  
Maggie kneeled down in the dirt next to him and started searching the plants. “Are you still mad?”

  
Kennedy shrugged.

  
He didn’t like fighting with his older sister because she almost always won so instead of fighting he’d gotten into the habit of ignoring instead.

  
Maggie sighed as she pulled a few green beans from the plant. “I don’t want you to be mad at me, Kenny.”

  
Kennedy scoffed and turned to glare at his sister. “I don’t want you to keep things from me, _Mags_.”

  
Maggie gave him a sad look that was clearly supposed to make him feel guilty.

  
Kennedy gritted his teeth and stood up, brushing the dirt from his knees. “I’ll finish tomorrow.”

  
“ _Kenny_ -“

  
But he had already started for the house.

 

AFTER

 

Kennedy tapped his foot against the side of one of the armchairs in the study, leaning back against one of the arms, a thin book in hand.

  
Gregory, it seemed, had worse taste in literature than sixteen-year-old Kennedy did. His shelves were filled with encyclopedias and law books and selections of Shakespeare plays. It wasn’t surprising that the study had only a few good books but it was still disappointing.

  
After twenty minutes of searching, Kennedy had eventually found a thin book with a familiar title.

  
I Have No Mouth But I Must Scream by Harland Ellison.

  
It was a selection of short stories that Kennedy had read for his literature class in his first semester of college. The first one (which the book was named after) was a particularly frustrating read written to convey the authors hate of society and the government and all that shit.

  
Kennedy had always found himself frustrated with books meant not to tell a story but to convey a message, mainly because those messages were usually pretentious bullshit and when books were written purely to have meaning the rest of it like it’s plot or characters were usually completely terrible.

  
But they were low on reading materials so Kennedy swallowed his annoyance and started the book as the Beatles played on the record player.

  
Gracie didn’t seem to mind the noise, in fact, she actually fell asleep as soon as Kenny lowered the needle onto the record.

  
“What’re you reading?”

  
Kennedy looked up at the voice, instantly grateful for the distraction from the wordy torture he was subjecting himself to.

  
Enid looked hesitant to step into the study so Kennedy waved her over, tossing the book in the general direction of the desk without bothering to mark his place.

  
“It’s shit anyway. What’s up?”

  
Enid looked nervous.

  
Kennedy raised an eyebrow.

  
“Y’know,” she stared. “How I cut your hair when you first got to Alexandria?”

  
Kennedy chuckled a bit. “It was like a week ago.”

  
“Yeah, um, can you return the favor?”

  
“You want me to... cut your hair?”

  
Enid shook her head. “I want you to braid it.”

  
Kennedy paused then burst into laughter. “ _What_?”

  
“Maggie said you used to braid your younger sister’s hair all the time and I’ve never really figured out how to do a Dutch.”

  
“I’m missing something here.”

  
Enid bounced nervously on her heels. “Carl said something about a date when all this is over and I thought..,” she trailed off. “Never mind, forget it.”

  
Kennedy sat up and sighed as she turned back. “It’s fine,” He said. “I’ll do it.”

  
Enid raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

  
Kennedy shrugged. “I’ve got nothing better to do. You got a hair tie?”

  
Enid smiled and turned back to the entry way. “I’ll get one.”

  
Kennedy smiled as she disappeared back into the hallway.

  
It was harder than he’d imagined, making friends at the Hilltop.

  
He’d never been specifically social but pre-apocalypse he hadn’t had any issues making friends.

  
Kennedy rested his chin in his hand with a sigh. He missed Sherry, he missed Justin, he missed alcohol, hell, he even missed Norah. It felt like everyone who could understand, everyone who maybe had at least somewhat at some point was gone.

  
Dead or missing or trapped.

  
Kennedy wondered if they were okay. If Justin had healed from the supposed beating he’d received from Negan, if Norah had made it somewhere safe, if Sherry had truly escaped Dwight.

  
_Dwight._

  
Shit, another person to worry about.

  
Kennedy buried his face in his hands with a groan.

  
“Rough day?” A hesitant voice asked.

  
Kennedy turned his head, peaking through his fingers at the intruder, half expecting to see Enid again.

  
Jesus tilted his head quizzically at him. “You need to talk?”

  
Kennedy removed his hands from his face and crossed his arms instead. “No, I’m good, thanks.”

  
Jesus looked almost disappointed. “You sure?”

  
Kennedy chewed on his lower lip and turned his attention to the bookshelves at the far end of the room.

  
Jesus sighed carefully and stepped into the study, sitting in the chair directly across from the desk. “Kenny, can we talk? _Please_?”

  
“Talk about what?” He couldn’t keep the annoyance from his voice.

  
“Talk about those people outside, the Saviors, talk about why the hell you’re mad at me when you were the one who said you wanted to keep the workers alive, talk about where the hell you found gum in the apocalypse and why you kept it when it’s stale.”

  
“Those aren’t the workers they’re- wait, what?” Kennedy blinked, then realization dawned on him. He patted his front pockets; empty. “You dick.”

  
Jesus smiled but it was a small, fragile thing. “I had to get back at you for stealing the cigarette carton.”

  
Kennedy gave him a bored look. “You stole them off me first.”

  
“And you stole them second!”

  
Kennedy couldn’t help the thin smile that twisted its way onto his lips at that.

  
“There we go,” Jesus grinned. “I was starting to think you wouldn’t forgive me.”

  
At that Kennedy’s smile faded. “I haven’t.” And with that he left Jesus in the study alone, heading upstairs to find Enid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh no, what could possibly happen next? Will our heroes forgive each other and better understand each other for their differences? Or will they grow to hate each other and become sworn enemies??? Find out in the next chapter of WAAWA!!! *outro music plays*  
> Ugh, this one was kinda messy. I finished it a couple of months ago and I just edited it tonight so I'm a bit meh about it. But some of the things in this chapter have been planned for a VERY long time. For example, the fight with Jared at the beginning of the chapter has been planned since that episode first aired and I first started writing the scene between Maggie and Kenny with the record like three months ago. So I hope you liked it!  
> The plan for the next chapter is a bit iffy because I'll be having my wisdom teeth taken out soon and therefore will likely be a bit out of it for a couple of days but I want to get a chapter out on the 31st! That's right, ghouls, HALLOWEEN!!! MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA *awkward cough*  
> Kudos give me motivation and comments make me put that motivation to use.


	18. Books, Betrayal, and Booze

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some unexpected visitors arrive at the farm. Later, Maggie and Kennedy find themselves butting heads as a difficult subject is brought up again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween, everyone! I'm currently typing this around a black cat, so I believe I have been blessed by the ghouls for this one lol. But for real its hard to edit around a cat.  
> This one is fairly short, I think, at least by my standards but a good deal happens in it. I hope y'all like it!  
> TW: For mentioned past self-harm but for reals, I think if you've made it this far you're probably cool with that.

The sound of hammers striking metal filled the walls of the Hilltop as the community prepared for more fighting. Guns were to be loaded, walls were to be reinforced, people were to be trained.

It was all meticulously planned but Kennedy still found himself worrying despite himself.

  
“God,” Enid muttered as she joined him on the porch. “Do they have to be so... _loud_.”

  
Kennedy raised a brow. “You hungover?”

  
Enid blinked. “What? No! I’m just tired.”

  
“Oh, well I can’t help you with that then.”

  
Enid chuckled, lowering herself onto the step right above him. “Well?” She gestured to her freshly braided hair.

  
“You’re getting good at it,” Kennedy observed. “Soon you won’t need me anymore.”

  
Enid shrugged. “I’m sure I can find another obsolete hairstyle that only you are the master of.”

  
Kennedy smiled.

  
“You think he’ll like it?”

  
“Enid, Carl already likes you, you don’t have to try and change how you look to get his attention.”

  
“I know, I just-“ Enid sighed, rubbing her temples. “Have you ever liked someone and known that they like you back but you talk yourself out of thinking that so you won’t be disappointed when they reveal they don’t really like you?”

  
“At least a dozen times.”

  
Enid chuckled.

  
“That’s normal kid stuff, kiddo, don’t worry about it. Carl likes you and if he ever changes his mind then it’s his loss.”

  
Enid arched a brow. “You really think that?”

  
Kennedy gave her a small smile in response.

  
“Even though you knew him first?” She prodded.

  
Kennedy sighed. “Hey, at least you let me play with your hair, I tried to get him to let me do a braid once and he refused, coward.”

  
Enid smiled and bumped his shoulder with her own.

  
“What’s goin’ on here?” Maggie asked from the entryway, Gracie in her arms. “You two having a party without me knowin’ about it?”

  
“Hair party,” Enid explained.

  
“Ahh,” Maggie replied. “One of both the best and worst kind. Kenny tell you how he gave me a bald spot once?”

  
Enid arched a brow.

  
“I don’t take responsibility for that,” Kennedy said. “I was seven and you gave me the scissors, that one’s on you.”

  
Maggie rolled her eyes and sat down on the step next to Enid, adjusting the bundle in her arms so she wouldn’t drop her. “Do you remember any of the Saviors mentioning having a baby?” She asked.

  
Kennedy frowned and shook his head. “A lot had kids but not babies, at least none that I know of.”

  
Maggie sighed and stroked the top of Gracie’s head. “Why are they always so soft?”

  
“Vagina lubricant?” Kennedy suggested.

  
Maggie rolled her eyes. “They smell good too.”

  
“Do vaginas smell good? I wouldn’t know.”

  
Enid shook her head. “I think I’m done with this conversation.”

  
“Smart,” Maggie said as Enid stood and went back into the house.

  
“So,” She said when Enid disappeared. “Have you talked to him yet?”

  
“Who?” Kennedy asked even though he already knew.

  
Maggie gave him an unimpressed look.

  
“Why should I talk to him? It’s not like it’ll change anything.”

  
“Maybe you’ll understand each other a bit more afterwards.”

“Oh, please-“

  
“Ken-“

  
“I’m not just being pissy at him because I like him, Mags!”

  
Maggie blinked at him.

_Oops._

  
“ _Fuck_.” Kennedy stood up from the stairs and turned back towards the house.

  
“Wait, Kenny, _please_ -“ Maggie pleaded. “I just- I wanna talk to you about this stuff, please.”

  
Kennedy ran his hand over his face with a sigh. “It’s not like that- I just- I don’t want to have to deal with this right now, okay? We have so much shit going on and... now is just not a good time, for any of this.”

  
Maggie shook her head, her eyebrows pinching in a knowing look. “You always make excuses.”

  
Kennedy frowned and turned back to face his sister. “What?”

  
Maggie gritted her teeth and shook her head. “Forget it.”

  
“No, what do you mean?”

  
Maggie sighed and looked back towards the groups at work. “You always make excuses not to talk when you’re about to do something stupid.”

  
“What do you mean?” Kennedy pressed, anticipation curling in his stomach.

  
“I tried to talk to you the second time. I saw it coming and I tried to talk to you but you kept on saying you had a lot going on.”

  
It took Kennedy too long to realize what she was talking about and when he did he was too shocked to make his words have any real bite. “Fuck you.”

  
Maggie didn’t chase after him when he went back into the house.

 

BEFORE

 

After a few weeks, Kennedy had settled back into life at the farm and it had gone from nostalgically peaceful to suffocating in a snap.

  
The work wasn’t the problem, in fact, it was actually kind of nice to have a schedule, the problem was his family.

  
Kennedy loved his family, he really did, but on a secluded farm in the middle of rural Georgia during what felt like the apocalypse it was a bit difficult to handle. There were always people around, _always_. Maggie and Beth were always down the hall giggling about something one of their old boyfriends had done, Portia was always in the kitchen preparing meals and washing dishes, Otis was always outside cleaning out the stalls and feeding the livestock. And Hershel, he was the worst of all of them, he always had been.

  
Kennedy had a difficult relationship with his father, to say the least. Although Hershel was a loving and devoted father Kennedy didn’t exactly apply to that, he had once but the whole gay thing mixed with the multiple suicide attempts made for a strained relationship between the two. Hershel didn’t understand Kennedy and Kennedy didn’t know how to explain. So they were at a standstill. A standstill that had lasted about six years.

  
It had been so long since he’d arrived at the farm that Kennedy couldn’t even remember what day it was in the scheme of things (Was it a Tuesday or a Friday? Did it even matter anymore?) when Hershel came to speak with him again.

  
It was early morning, so early that the sky was just beginning to lighten from a deep navy to a comforting lavender.

  
Kennedy liked to start his chores early mainly because Maggie was never up before nine and Beth had taken to spending her mornings with her boyfriend, Jimmy.

  
It was peaceful in the mornings, quiet, and it was a brief but nice change of pace from the suffocating atmosphere of the house.

  
Kennedy was brushing Nelly, their mare, when Hershel entered the stables.

  
At first, he looked like he was searching for something, he paced the halls unsteadily, disappearing into one of the stables every now and then. But when Kennedy unhooked Nelly from her restraints and led her to her stall he spoke up.

  
“Have you been going into the old barn recently?”

  
Kennedy raised a brow and spun to look at his father. “Umm, _no_?”

  
Hershel eyed his son suspiciously. “Really?”

  
“You told us it was unstable.”

  
“It is.”

  
“So why would I go in there?”

  
“I don’t know.”

  
Kennedy frowned but turned his attention back to Nelly, shutting the door to her stall behind her as she settled in.

  
“Your mother and brother are in there.” His voice was distant and mournful like the words had just slipped out due not to him wanting them out but because they needed to be said.

  
Kennedy froze, his hand a mere inch away from Nelly’s coat. After a minute of processing, he turned to confront his father but Hershel was already gone.

 

AFTER

 

Kennedy wanted desperately to help; to reinforce the walls, or to tend to the garden. But it became increasingly apparent as he wandered the community that everyone else had the same idea.

  
He considered going to the newly established medical trailers to offer his meager assistance but he had met the doctor running it and she wasn’t the most open to taking on apprentices.

  
So with his options limited Kennedy read. He read fiction and nonfiction, fantasy and sci-fi, dictionaries and cookbooks. He read anything he could really get his hands on.

  
He’d forgotten how much he had enjoyed reading in high school and college, how much he adored the feeling that rose in his chest when he guessed a plot twist right or when a character had a satisfying arch.

  
He thought maybe he’d have trouble getting into books after his years-long break from them but surprisingly he just fell into them with the help of Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, of course.

  
By the time the sky had begun darkening Kennedy was halfway through the copy he’d found of Anne of Avonlea and he was starting to feel okay with not being needed.

 

**....**

 

Jesus was good at the watch, he loved the isolation of it; being alone with his thoughts for hours gave him time to relax, he liked being able to see out over the sprawling fields that surrounded the Hilltop, and he’d always kept weird hours anyway.

  
It was a job most didn’t like to take either not liking the responsibility or the waste of time that it tended to be. But Jesus didn’t mind that when he could view the orange and pink sunset for as long as he wanted.

  
Behind him, the ladder leading to the lookout creaked.

  
Jesus didn’t bother to look back until the figure climbing the ladder peaked their head out.

  
Maggie.

  
“Hey,” he greeted.

  
“Hey,” she replied. “I wanna talk to you.”

  
“I’m on watch,” Jesus explained.

  
“Kal will take over for you.”

  
Jesus frowned and glanced at the sunset.

  
Maggie let out a breath of amusement and joined him by the wall. “We can talk out here, y’know?”

  
Jesus leaned against the top of the wall. “Well?”

  
Maggie smiled softly and looked out across the clearing. “So, Kennedy...” She trailed off.

  
His name alone made his heart stutter. “What about him?”

  
“What do you think of him?”

  
“He seems... nice,” Jesus replied slowly, carefully.

  
“ _Nice_?” Maggie asked, raising her eyebrows. “Just ‘ _nice_ ’?”

  
“I’m not sure what you want me to say.”

  
Maggie gave him a knowing smile.

  
“Shit,” Jesus muttered.

  
“I’m not mad. In fact, I think it’s nice.”

  
Jesus chuckled. “‘ _Nice_ ’?”

  
“Yeah, I like you, you’re a good person. Of all my brother's boyfriends, you’d probably be my favorite.”

  
“Woah, woah, woah, slow down. Who said anything about _boyfriends_?” The word sounded strange to his ears, too mundane, too _normal_ for the world they lived in.

  
“I did, just now,” Maggie said as though it was obvious.

  
“I don’t even know if he likes men,” Jesus pointed out, not liking the sudden personal discussion.

  
Maggie gave him a withering look. “I literally just told you that he’s had boyfriends before.”

  
“He’s also had a husband,” Jesus reminded her, hating the way it sounded even as he said it.

  
Maggie went cold. “I’d... like to say that Negan didn’t change him but...” she sighed, a thin sort of exhaustion taking over her face like defeat. “He won’t talk to me about him. He needs someone else to be there for him and he needs someone to move on with and I’d rather that be you than some stranger.”

  
“Oh, so I’m a rebound now?” He asked, his voice simultaneously amused and outraged.

  
“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

  
Jesus sighed. “I don’t think he likes me like that... at least, not anymore.” He turned to glance at the POWs where they rested in their prison.

  
“You two spend just about every waking minute together flirting.”

  
“That’s just jokes, I don’t- what’re you doing?”

  
Maggie started down the ladder.

  
“Maggie?”

  
“Come on!” She yelled up at him once she reached the ground.

  
Jesus hurriedly followed, glancing back at the sunset sadly as he started down the lader.

  
Maggie stalked across the camp making her way to the house.

  
“Maggie?” Jesus called again.

  
“Keep up!” She replied.

  
It wasn’t until she threw the door open that he understood what she was doing.

  
“ _Kenny_!” She called out.

  
“Maggie, I really didn’t plan on doing anything about it, it’s fine, seriously. Just leave it.”

  
“In here,” Kennedy called back from the study.

  
Maggie pushed open the double doors and turned towards her brother who was sprawled across one of Gregory’s armchairs one of the thinner books in hand.

  
Kennedy looked up when they entered the room. “Am I interrupting something?” He asked cautiously.

  
“Remember that conversation we had when you were like twelve?” Maggie asked, stopping in front of him.

  
“Very specific, Mags.”

  
“About your sexual preferences,” Maggie elaborated.

  
Kennedy seemed amused but still slightly annoyed. “How can I forget?”

  
“Did you or did you not tell me that you like men?”

  
Kennedy’s gaze briefly cut to Jesus but found their way back to Maggie. “ _I did._ ” 

  
“And has your stance on that changed at all?”

  
Kennedy smiled. “Not sure, I haven’t checked in awhile. I’ll keep you posted.”

  
“Did you know Jesus is gay too?” Maggie asked.

 

Jesus hadn't been particularly protective of his sexual identity for a long while but hearing said so simply, so crudely, like it was something that hadn't once been a big deal to him if not everyone else, he couldn't help but wince.

  
Kennedy gave Jesus a curious look. “I did not.”

  
“He is.”

  
“You are?”

  
“Yes, I am,” Jesus said.

  
“ _Fascinating,_ ” Kennedy said, and then turned his attention back to his book.

  
Disappointment stirred in his stomach.

 

He wasn't sure what he'd wanted, what he'd expected but he felt cheated somehow. Like Kennedy's lack of reaction was robbing him of some special moment.

  
Maggie looked conflicted.

  
Jesus tried not to let his emotions show as he shrugged at Maggie.

  
It was meant to be more of an _‘I told you so’_ but it must’ve come across as more nonchalant because her frown just deepened.

  
 _It’s not a big deal_ , he wanted to say. _If he doesn’t like me then he doesn’t like me, he won’t have been the first to turn me down._

  
But the words caught in his throat as he watched Kennedy’s eyes rake the pages of his book, his hazel eyes tired.

  
Jesus frowned as it occurred to him that maybe this game they were playing was just as exhausting for Kennedy as it was for him.

 

BEFORE

 

Kennedy didn’t know how to handle the fact that Annette and Shawn were in the barn. Now that he knew it seemed impossible for him to not have known; the barn would shutter every once and awhile like someone was bumping up against the walls and it was no secret that both Hershel and Portia made several trips out there a day. It didn’t take him long to realize that among their group he was the _only_ one not to know.

  
It stung, he couldn’t lie. Even Jimmy had been trusted with the information.

  
He supposed it was fair, he hadn’t reacted well to finding them the first time. But... he’d just wanted them to be... gone. Because in all honesty, he didn’t know what the hell he was supposed to do with the information that they were still around.

  
They were already dead, he knew that, but he didn’t know how to make them _really_ dead. He didn’t know what to do.

  
So for three days, he ignored his family, spending his time trying and failing to come up with a foolproof plan to end whatever those things were that wore his mother and brothers face and move on.

  
He was sitting on the porch, doing just that as he eyed the barn cautiously when Maggie confronted him about it.

  
He heard the squeak of the front door opening along with the sound of footsteps behind him but he didn’t turn, didn’t face her.

  
“They’re just sick, Kenny,” she insisted, her voice thin and broken.

  
Kennedy gritted his teeth. “Have you seen them?” He whispered.

  
“Yes,” Maggie replied.

  
Kennedy turned to face his sister. “Then how can you say that?”

  
Maggie kneeled down on the step beside him. “Because they’re our family.”

  
Kennedy scoffed and pushed away from the porch, he didn’t know where he was going but he knew for sure he didn’t want to continue his conversation with his sister.

  
He was halfway to the driveway when Maggie called out for him. It probably wouldn’t have gotten his attention if there wasn’t a panicked note to it.

  
Kennedy turned to look back at her but she wasn’t looking at him, no, her eyes were on the fields.

  
Kennedy followed her gaze.

  
A man was running across the field, a bundle in his arms.

  
Kennedy blinked.

  
“ _Kenny_ ,” Maggie said a bit louder this time.

  
Kennedy obediently retreated to the porch.

  
“ _Dad!_ ” Maggie yelled.

 

AFTER

 

Kennedy didn’t really want to be near his sister but the books were in the study and she and Gracie practically lived in there. So instead of going to sleep or finding something else to do until exhaustion drew him to sleep he hesitantly climbed down the stairs and made his way to the study, knocking twice on the sprawling wood doors.

  
“Come on in,” Maggie drawled.

  
Kennedy obediently slipped through the door to find Maggie at her desk with a little bundle of Gracie in her arms.

  
“Hey,” she greeted, looking somewhat surprised. “What are you doing down here, it’s late.”

  
Kennedy just shrugged and went to the bookshelf, eyeing the titles, desperately looking for something semi-interesting.

  
Maggie rested her head in her hand and frowned at her brother. “What was that- earlier, with Jesus?”

  
Kennedy raised a brow quizzically and looked back at her.

 _I could ask you the same thing_ , he thought.

  
“You turned him down.”

  
He scoffed. “I did no such thing.”

  
“You did too and you know it.”

  
Kennedy rolled his eyes. “You told him I was gay, that wasn’t necessarily an invitation, at least not on _my_ part.” He said the last part pointedly with a sharp look in her direction.

  
Maggie gave him an unimpressed look in response.

  
Kennedy gritted his teeth. “Why did you tell him?”

  
Maggie shrugged.

  
“I’m not dating anyone right now, Mags.”

  
“That’s not why I told him.”

  
Kennedy scoffed, unimpressed.

  
“Seriously, Ken, I wouldn’t-“ she cut off with a frustrated sigh. “I just wanted him to feel more... I don’t know, accepted? I think he has trouble sticking around.”

  
Kennedy frowned at that.

  
 _Jesus_ having problems sticking around? He seemed more committed to the group than anyone. But then again he was constantly asking to go on supply runs and missions.

  
“I thought you’d say something encouraging, but I guess I was wrong.”

  
Kennedy shook his head as his vague annoyance at his sister shifted to full-on anger.

  
He grabbed the book closest to him and marched straight out the doors, ignoring Maggie’s call after him.

 

**....**

 

Exhaustion pulled on Jesus as he headed for his trailer.

  
It was long past midnight and he usually went to bed at nine at the latest but with a prison full of POW’s and an angry Kennedy at the back of his mind every minute Jesus couldn’t really find time to rest.

  
When he reached his trailer, that luckily hadn’t been turned into a med station yet, he pushed open his door with an exhausted sigh, fully planning on shedding his clothes and going straight for bed. But a body on his couch stopped him.

  
“What are you doing here?” Jesus asked from his doorway, his voice came out more curious than annoyed.

  
Kennedy looked up, somewhat sleepily from the butterfly knife he’d been fiddling with. “Can I stay here for tonight?” His voice came out rougher than normal like he was struggling to get the words out, like whatever anger he'd been feeling towards Jesus was holding them back.

  
It sounded familiar but somehow different from the voice he’d gotten used to in the last few weeks.

  
Jesus stared for a moment his expression caught between confusion and concern. Then he said, “Take the bed.” And threw his coat over one of his dining chairs.

  
Kennedy turned back to watch the butterfly knife as it clicked open and closed in his hand. “I’ll take the couch.”

  
“Kennedy,” Jesus started. “What are you doing here?”

  
“I needed a place to sleep and you’re the lesser of two evils.”

  
“Who’s the other?”

  
Kennedy didn’t reply and didn’t look up.

  
“What’s wrong? Is this about the prisoners?”

  
_Click, open, click, closed, click, open, click, closed._

  
“ _Kennedy!_ ”

  
He stopped and looked up at Jesus a bit blearily.

  
“Maggie?”

  
Kennedy looked away, towards the pinned up lobster bib on the wall.

  
“Is this about the prisoners?” Jesus asked again.

  
When Kennedy didn’t reply he tried again. “Tell me why you think we should kill them.”

  
“I already did.”

  
“No, you didn’t. Tell me why.”

  
He was just trying to get him to talk but it seemed like the genuine curiosity in his voice caught Kennedy’s attention.

  
“Did Maggie ever tell you about the Governor?” He asked.

  
Jesus shook his head.

  
Kennedy finally met his gaze.

  
“That was what he called himself: the Governor. He was the leader of this community near the prison we’d settled down in shortly before Judith was born. He figured out we were living there and for some reason decided he wanted what we had. He had people, food, walls, guns, _safety_ , but he wanted what we had: the prison. He came for it eventually, we won, he left, and we took in his people. None of us bothered to look for him except for Michonne. We’d given up, thought he was dead but he wasn’t. It took a few months but he came back, and when he did he took Michonne’s sword and cut my fathers head off with it. _That’s_ why I think we should kill them, it’s not worth the risk.”

  
Jesus shook his head. “But that wasn’t the same.”

  
“We _let_ them go, they come back. We let the Governor go, he came back and killed my father. I let Negan live, he killed Sasha.”

  
“Sasha killed Sasha and we both know it.” Jesus pressed, hating how callus the words came out.

  
“That’s why I’m here,” Kennedy said. “Maggie thinks that’s going to happen to me.”

  
“She thinks you’re going to die?” Jesus asked, confused.

  
Kennedy gave Jesus an unimpressed look.

  
Then a thought came to him.

  
“She thinks you’re going to try to kill yourself?” The way It came out suggested that he thought the idea was outlandish even though he knew it wasn’t.

  
Kennedy shrugged, nonchalant. “I’ve tried before.”

  
Jesus’s eyes flashed down to Kennedy’s covered wrists. He looked away just as quickly as he’d looked but Kennedy seemed to catch it.

  
Kennedy pulled up his sleeves so he could see them anyway.

  
Two long scars covered his forearms, pale raised bumps.

  
Kennedy looked away again and began chewing on his bottom lip. “I have Maggie now. I wouldn’t now.”

  
There was a simple truth to his words, he'd said it simply as if it were obvious, but Jesus couldn't help but feel the impact of seeing the scars, feel the second-hand pain that he imagined a younger Kennedy would've felt. It didn't help that he was so... _casual_ about it like it was a small thing when it so clearly _wasn't_.  
  
“I want to take this away from you now,” Jesus said softly, placing a hand on Kennedy’s now closed butterfly knife.

  
Kennedy’s laugh sounded watery though he wasn’t quite crying. “You can if it’ll make you feel better.”

  
Jesus gently took the blade out of his hand and set it on the table behind them.

  
Kennedy shrugged. “I’ll take the couch.”

  
Jesus frowned.

  
“I’ll be fine in the morning, I’m just drunk.”

  
Suddenly it made sense to Jesus how he’d recognized this Kennedy, this was the Kennedy he’d first met at the Sanctuary. The Kennedy who slurred his words and made grand gestures with his hands when he talked.

  
“ _How?_ ” He asked, unable to keep the incredulity from his voice.

  
“Bottle of whiskey hidden in one of the closets,” Kennedy replied. “Same stuff Negan had.”

  
Jesus didn’t bother pointing out that this was probably because they’d gotten it from the Hilltop. “Get some sleep,” Jesus started. “We can talk more in the morning.”

  
Kennedy nodded and leaned back onto the couch.

  
Jesus watched as he settled down and then turned the light off, climbing into the bed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of this chapter was written a very long time ago so I'm not too sure about it. I cut out quite a bit of dialogue while editing this because quite frankly it was terrible so I hope it still made sense. The next chapter is going to be a fairly wordy one, I don't think I've quite gone into characters thought processes and such in this fic as much as I wanted to so hopefully this next one will be a step towards that direction.   
> And the next chapter will be out.... *drumroll* TODAY!!!  
> *confused gasps from the audience*  
> That's right folks, as a thank you for all your support and in celebration for this spooky, spooky day I will be posting chapter 19 later today!!! It turns out this segment of the fic (basically meaning the last season of the show) is going to be a lot longer than I initially intended because now that I'm rewatching it I'm realizing a lot more shit went down then I thought lol. So the space between when we catch up with where the show is now and where we are currently at is going to be a bit of a ride which is great! It gives me more time to flesh out Kennedy and Jesus's relationship and figure out what I want to do with the new inspiration the show is providing. Which means the updates should be coming more frequently (I'm hoping to do two chapters a month now instead of one) and hopefully no hiatus for this fic while the show is running its course.  
> Thank you so much for reading, I really hope you liked it and I will see you later with the next chapter. Have a fun Halloween!!!  
> Kudos keep my foot from cramping while my cat sits on it and one comment = one kitty pet.


	19. Too Much

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kennedy mulls over whether or not he should make up with Jesus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELP, CAT HAS TAKEN MY RIGHT ARM HOSTAGE I AM NOW TYPING WITH ONE HAND, I REPEAT I AM NOW TYPING WITH ONE HAND.  
> Yikes, my hand is now free but I got a few chomps before I could escape, Cat does not like being disturbed while she rests, even for fanfiction.  
> Anyway, here's your second chapter, my children. I hope you like it, this one took awhile.

  
Jesus woke at six in the morning like clockwork, the moment the clock struck six his eyes were open and he was feeling like he’d chugged a gallon of coffee. It wasn’t necessary for him to get up so early but back when he’d been going on supply runs every other day he had gotten into the habit and had yet to shake it.

  
He was feeling it again now, the need to get out, out of the Hilltop, out of the walls, at least for a day.

  
Jesus sighed and tried to ground himself.

  
They had another stage planned in just a few days, he needed to be there for that at least. Not to mention Kennedy, he needed to figure out how to get back into his good graces before he ran off again, even though if he were being honest Kennedy was one of the reasons he wanted to get out.

  
Wait... Kennedy.

  
Jesus bolted upright and surely enough Kenny was still sprawled across his sofa, his dark curls sticking out every which way.

  
_Shit._

  
Jesus sighed and carefully stepped out from under his covers.

  
He was still wearing his clothes from the day before because he hadn’t wanted to strip down in front of Kennedy.

  
Kennedy stirred a bit but ultimately didn’t open his eyes.

  
Jesus carefully walked over to the door, his bare feet quiet against the carpet, and carefully slipped out of the front door, closing it firmly shut behind him.

  
He let out a shaky breath.

  
It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be around Kennedy, it was just that the mix of his current animosity towards Jesus and Jesus’s newly acknowledged attraction to him didn’t mix well and it’d be nice to have a second to step away from it all. He liked being around Kennedy but maybe, he thought, he liked it _too_ much.

  
The colony was just starting to awaken, a few workers headed to their morning shifts, lookouts swapped, the blacksmith lit his forge.

  
Jesus bypassed it all, instead going straight to the house.

  
The inside of the house was remarkably quiet compared to the chirping birds and beating metal of the Hilltop. The only sounds coming from inside being the creaky floorboards beneath his feet.

  
Jesus eyed the seemingly empty house. “Maggie?” He called.

  
She was probably still in bed, resting for two if that was a thing.

  
Jesus didn’t bother finding her when she didn’t reply, instead heading for the kitchen and filled a glass with water.

  
He didn’t need to wake her from her much needed sleep in a stressful time.

  
After he got the water he went to the bathroom, rifling through the nearly empty medicine cabinet and drawers until he found a half-empty bottle of Tylenol. Equipped with two hangover helpers for Kennedy, Jesus retreated to the foyer, the only thing stopping him being the cracked door to the study.

  
“Maggie?” He asked.

  
No reply.

  
Jesus pushed the door open so he could see inside.

  
Maggie was at the desk, sleeping with Gracie hanging loosely from her arms.

  
With a small sigh, Jesus set the water and painkillers on the desk, moving to take the baby from Maggie’s limp arms.

  
Gracie was awake but she didn’t seem disturbed by the possible danger of her getting dropped.

  
Jesus moved forward, careful as to not disturb Maggie but quick as to limit the possibility of Gracie getting dropped on her head.

  
When the baby was tucked safely back in her crib Jesus turned to Maggie, unsure of what to do with her clear exhaustion.

  
They needed her, that was definite, but they needed her coherent above all.

  
He considered waking her and telling her to go to bed but he knew she’d insist on getting up and rushing to get everything ready for the big day.

  
Jesus sighed softly and made his way around her instead stopping only to pick up his water and Tylenol before squeezing out from the room.

  
Kennedy was still asleep when he got back to the trailer but he stirred when Jesus set the water on a stack of books beside the sofa.

  
Jesus crouched down before him as his eyes fluttered open sleepily. “I brought some Tylenol.”

  
Kennedy blinked, his eyes squinted at the little light that leaked through the window.

  
Jesus’s heart seized at the sight.

  
Kennedy’s hair was gently tussled and his eyes were sleepy but a bright bluish color in the light.

  
Kennedy blinked again as he seemingly realized where he was and just like that he bolted upright, not pausing to even glance at Jesus as he hurriedly pulled his ratty shoes back on.

  
Jesus sighed through his nose. “Kenny.”

  
Kennedy didn’t respond, just got to work on his other shoe.

  
“ _Kennedy_ ,” Jesus repeated. “Can we just- can we talk?”

  
Kennedy didn’t respond, didn’t look up from his dirty shoe laces.

  
Jesus gritted his teeth and eyed him carefully, desperately trying to keep his temper at bay. That was when he noticed Kennedy’s hands were shaking as he tightened his laces.

  
Without thinking he took them in his own, his hands tightening around Kennedy’s icy palms.

  
Kennedy went completely still, his eyes still trained firmly on the floor.

  
“ _Can we talk?_ ” Jesus asked again.

  
At that Kennedy slowly dragged his gaze from the floor until it settled on him. There was something pained and angry in his eyes but it didn’t take much searching for Jesus to realize it wasn’t directed towards him.

  
“There’s nothing to talk about,” Kennedy whispered as if his voice didn’t want to talk as much as it’s owner.

  
“Kenny,” Jesus murmured. “I don’t- I can’t keep-“

  
Kennedy ripped his hands away from Jesus grasp. “There’s nothing to talk about.” He stood as if he were going to leave but Jesus followed him without thinking.

  
“We can’t just ignore each other every time we disagree on anything,” Jesus said, his voice sounding surer than he felt. “I just want to settle this like adults, Ken.”

  
At that Kennedy laughed but it was bitter and made the already petite trailer feel smaller. “Adults? I think we are pretty far past that, Paul.”

  
The sound of his real name coming out of Kennedy’s mouth in such a negative way made Jesus freeze. “I’m trying to help.”

  
“You’re trying to put everything in a perfect box that we can't handle right now-“

  
“You mean that _you_ can’t handle.”

  
“ _Fuck you_.”

  
“I,” Jesus started again. “Am just trying to help.”

  
Kennedy seemed to fall into himself a bit. “You’re not.”

  
“Then why did you come here last night?”

  
“I was drunk.”

  
“I noticed.”

  
“It didn’t mean anything, I just- I had nowhere else to go.”

  
Jesus sighed and rubbed his brow, exhausted. “Please, just... take the Tylenol.”

  
For a brief moment, it looked as if Kennedy would take him up on his offer. A thin, exhausted expression took over the defiant one, his stiff shoulders fell a bit, and he turned back towards the sofa as if he were going to walk back. But as soon as it came it left and Kennedy was marching out of the trailer, the thin door squealing on its hinges as it fell shut behind him.

  
**....**

  
A thin sort of panic took over as soon as the trailer door slammed shut behind Kennedy. The kind of panic that came from feeling like an outsider in an unfamiliar place. He felt like he needed to leave, like he was no longer welcome and depending on how you looked at it; he was.

  
The shallow gazed of the others Hilltopers didn’t help either.

  
It was like they were judging him, like they knew every single thing that he’d done or ignored in the Sanctuary and their eternal glares were meant to be his punishment.

  
Or maybe that was just the hangover talking.

  
 _Should’ve taken the fucking Tylenol, dumbass._ Kennedy thought.

  
He hadn’t been lying, though, when he’d said he didn’t have anywhere else to go. Even sober he was reluctant to return to his sister after what had been said.

  
It was an uncomfortable feeling; not knowing who you could trust. And he’d thought he’d seen the last of it after the Sanctuary.

  
Kennedy looked back to the door.

  
He hated that he had to explain himself, hated that people didn’t understand what it was like, but mostly he hated how much he wanted to forgive Jesus.

  
Well, he never thought he’d think _that_ sentence.

  
 _Paul._ He wanted to forgive Paul.

  
Kennedy understood where he was coming from in a basic sense and he knew he probably would’ve agreed with him a year or two beforehand. But it was difficult when the people he was protecting had likely mocked Kennedy when he’d been suffering, laughed at him as he’d bled. Like Negan. Like...

_Tom._

  
Kennedy shuddered.

  
He’d killed him and the thought of the man still made him want to curl into a ball.

  
Kennedy walked down the porch steps and headed for the house because he really didn’t know what else to do.

  
He didn’t want to just write it all off, didn’t want them to think he was okay with what they’d done to him and the others.

  
Maybe he did understand why Maggie was so caught up in their existence.

  
But he was tired of dealing with them. It may have seemed childish but he just wanted them out of his life so he could move on.

  
If they were dead he could move on, if they were dead he could live a semi-normal life again.

  
But if they were to be killed, who would do it?

  
Kennedy liked to think he could but... in reality, his psyche was too delicate. He’d end up hanging himself out of guilt before he knew it.

  
Maggie already had too much on her plate.

  
Rick would probably do it but who knows how that would screw him up in the long haul.

  
Kennedy sighed, his temples pounding as he climbed the steps to the house.

  
 _Maybe,_ he thought bitterly. _There really isn’t anything to do._

  
Kennedy pushed the front door open quietly, frowning as the entryway floorboards squealed under his weight.

  
Either way, it was a frustrating predicament.

  
“Kenny?” Maggie’s sleepy voice called from the study.

  
Kennedy winced and started for the stairs but the tall wooden doors were creaking open before he could reach them.

  
“Ken,” Maggie said sternly, making him stop in his tracks.

  
“I’m just going to take a shower, then I’ll leave.”

  
“Did I say I wanted you to leave?”

  
Kennedy sighed but still didn’t turn around.

  
“ _Kenny_ ,” Maggie repeated, her voice pleading.

  
Kennedy carefully wrapped his arms protectively around his middle and turned to face his sister.

  
She looked exhausted but that wasn’t really new. Her eyes were dark and sleep, like she’d just woken up. Her gaze softened when he turned around. “I’m tired of fighting with you.”

  
Kennedy was too but he wasn’t quite sure if he wanted to admit that yet.

  
“I’m sorry, about everything I said yesterday. It was dumb and I just-“ she cut off with a sigh. “You know I worry about you.”

  
“I wouldn’t do anything,” Kennedy said through gritted teeth. “You _know_ that.”

  
“Yes, but-“ Maggie looked uncomfortable. “You have before and ever since you’ve gotten back I- I feel like I don’t know you anymore, Ken.”

  
“I’m the same. I’m just... angrier, really,” Kennedy couldn’t help the way his voice shook with the confession. “I get why you’d be worried, Mags, I do, it’s just- I don’t want you tiptoeing around me because you’re afraid every little thing will set me off.”

  
Maggie’s gaze fell to the floor. “I just don’t want to hurt you.”

  
“You’ll hurt me more if you keep me out of the loop than you will by just telling me how you feel about all the shit that’s been going on.”

  
Maggie looked back to her brother, her expression softening even more. “I’m sorry.”

  
Kennedy gave his sister a small halfhearted smile. “It’s okay.”

  
Maggie returned the smile tenfold and closed the distance between them, pulling her brother tight to her chest. “Love you.”

  
“Love you, too.”

  
Maggie was the one to pull back first but Kennedy was the first to step away.

  
“I really need to take a shower, I smell like booze.”

  
At that Maggie frowned. “How?” She asked simply.

  
“Whiskey in a closet,” Kennedy replied.

  
Maggie sighed but didn’t press beyond that. “There’s extra clothes in the armoire upstairs.”

  
“Which one? There’s like twenty.”

  
Maggie chuckled a bit and lead the way up the winding staircase.

  
She opened her mouth to speak when they reached the first landing but stopped as if she thought better of it.

  
Kennedy arched a brow. “Mags?”

  
Maggie looked hesitant. “I don’t want to push but...”

  
Kennedy sighed. “Jesus?” He guessed.

  
“Jesus,” She agreed.

  
Kennedy considered this, running a hand through his hair to buy time.

  
“You don’t have to say if you don’t want to,” Maggie interrupted. “It’s fine.”

  
“No, it’s okay,” Kennedy said. “It’s- he’s... _nice_.”

  
At that Maggie laughed, loud and startling. “Sorry, sorry, it’s just- he said the exact same thing about you.”

  
Kennedy’s cheeks heated at that. “What?”

  
Maggie chuckled again. “He really does like you, Ken.”

  
Kennedy’s cheeks heated even more.

  
“It’s true.” Maggie softened a bit. “He likes you.”

  
There was a brief pause when Kennedy’s gaze fell to the ground.

  
Maggie raised a brow. “Are you okay with that?”

  
Kennedy wondered the same thing.

  
Was he okay with it?

  
Even before Negan Kennedy’s love life had been limited. After his very first boyfriend outed him to his school he’d become understandably cautious when it came to guys. Not to mention that he’d been desperately afraid of his father’s judgment. Will had loosened that strain a bit but he was... well, gone. Really, Negan was just the cherry on top of a long history of shitty boyfriends if you could even call him that.

  
But Jesus was different. He was calmer, more mature, and maybe Kennedy could use that in his life.

  
Although Jesus being a good person didn’t really sway the fact that Kennedy was deeply damaged. He needed to heal and he wasn’t entirely sure whether or not a relationship would help that process along or postpone it.

  
Jesus was kind and understanding and comforting but Kennedy couldn’t be sure if he’d even be able to stand that.

  
Kennedy looked back to his sister. “I’m not sure yet,” he replied honestly.

  
By the time Kennedy got out of the shower the rest of the Hilltop had awakened; creating a tense and suffocating atmosphere in the community.

  
People were worried which was understandable but it would’ve been nice to see at least one smiling face among the crowd.

  
Jesus probably would’ve been smiling.

  
 _If you weren’t such a dick to him_ , a voice at the back of his brain said.

  
Kennedy huffed a sigh and leaned forward on the porch of the house, resting his chin atop his palm.

  
The sight of the POW’s walking around their prison was enough to spark some of the frustration that had since slowly begun to die off. But he still felt tight, suffocated, _guilty_.

  
Kennedy closed his eyes against the movement, his half intoxicated gaze swimming with it.

  
“Are you alright?” The voice that had asked was so timid and broken that Kennedy didn’t recognize it until he turned back to find Aaron standing but the door.

  
His eyes were red-rimmed and swollen and his gaze was distant and despairing but it was him.

  
“Hey,” Kennedy said, his voice coming out softer than he’d intended. “I’m fine. Are you?”

  
Aaron looked out to the community and then back to Kennedy. “No.”

  
Kennedy’s brows drew together slowly. “Can I- should I get someone?” He asked, cringing at how insensitive it sounded.

  
“No,” Aaron said with a firm shake of his head. “No, I just- I’m still a bit... after... Eric.”

  
Kennedy fought the urge to hit himself. “Oh, he was your boyfriend?”

  
Aaron’s eyes widened, surprise replacing a little bit of his grief. “You didn’t know?”

  
Kennedy shook his head. “I’ve been a bit out of the loop recently.”

  
“Oh,” Aaron looked back to the rushing masses of people.

  
“I’m sorry,” Kennedy said after an uncomfortable pause.

  
Aaron shook his head and tried and failed to smile. “No, I just- I’m used to everyone knowing by now and treating me like I’m... fragile.”

  
Kennedy wasn’t entirely sure what to say to that.

  
“I kind of appreciate the normalcy.”

  
He smiled gently. “Well normal isn’t usually my specialty but I’m glad I could oblige you.”

  
Aaron smiled back this time, a bit firmer than before, and joined Kennedy on the steps. “Do you know what’s happening?”

  
“You’d think but no, no I don’t.”

  
“They have snipers outside the Sanctuary,” Aaron supplied. “Anyone comes out and...” he let himself trail off.

  
Kennedy tried to relish in the image of Negan trapped in the Sanctuary but his worry for the wives paused his enjoyment.

  
Maggie had told him that no one had surrendered when they shot up the building and the thought of the girls stuck in that building when they’d done nothing to deserve it made him supremely uncomfortable.

  
“It’s going to be over soon, isn’t it?” He found himself asking.

  
Aaron gave him a long look, understanding his meaning.

  
They’d have to make things right again afterwards and neither of them was ready for that.

  
**....**

  
Jesus couldn’t help but feel a bit amiss when he found his trailer empty as the sun set behind the pine trees. It was a relief to have his home turf back but he thought he would’ve liked Kennedy around on better circumstances. In fact, the space seemed empty without his presence.

  
 _He stayed the night once._ He chastised himself. _That doesn’t mean he has to stay all the time or that he’d want to._

  
So Jesus busied himself reading. He had a decent collection of books now and he wished he could give some to Kennedy after seeing him read from Gregory’s god awful library but he was content keeping them to himself at the moment.

  
He was just cracking open Good Omens when a knock at his door made him pause.

  
It came somewhat hesitantly, like whoever was on the other side of that door was unsure of their decision to knock.

  
He knew who it was as soon as he heard it but he didn’t quite believe it until he answered it and surely enough there stood Kennedy.

  
Kennedy looked up as the door creaked open, looking hesitant and uncertain.

  
“Hi,” Jesus said lamely after a beat of silence, unsure of what else to say.

  
“Hey,” Kennedy replied, equally as awkward.

  
“I didn’t think you wanted to talk...” Jesus winced at his own words.

  
_Stupid, stupid, stupid._

  
Kennedy paused, considering his words carefully before replying. “I didn’t but... I think we should.”

  
Jesus smiled a bit then stepped out of the way so Kennedy could step inside.

  
He did, looking uncomfortable with his arms wrapped tightly around his middle as he did so, but he did.

  
Jesus closed the door behind him, feeling suddenly strange in his own home.

  
“I don’t... want to fight with you,” Kennedy said after a moment passed, his gaze stuck firmly to the floor. “I’m just- tired of everything.”

  
Jesus let out a small sigh of relief at Kennedy starting the conversation. “I get it, this has been hard on everyone. It makes sense for you to want to end it before it can get more complicated but you have to understand we can’t do that.”

  
“We can,” Kennedy interrupted.

  
“ _Kenny_ -“

  
“No, we can and...” Kennedy paused to wince. “I know it's not right but... I know we could and I know things would be easier if they were.”

  
Jesus’s mouth thinned as he took that in. He was right, of course, but it felt like a too simple explanation for something that had felt so complicated and difficult to get past. “That’s it?” He said by accident.

  
Kennedy arched a brow, looking confused. “What else would it be?”

  
“Revenge?” Jesus inquired, hesitantly.

  
At that Kennedy laughed breathily. “ _‘Revenge_?’” He echoed, amused.

  
“I thought-“ Jesus started a bit embarrassed.

  
“I get it,” Kennedy interrupted. “It’s just- _really_?”

  
“You wouldn’t do it if you could?“ Jesus pressed. “You wouldn’t kill Negan?”

  
At that Kennedy’s face went utterly and carefully blank. “Is that really what you think?”

  
“Would you?”

  
Kennedy loosed a slow, steadying breath. “I- I don’t know, I really have no idea what I’d do if I saw him again. I just know I’m tired of him hurting the people I care about.”

  
“Kennedy,” Jesus started, gently. “Are you sure?”

  
“It’s not going to be me,” Kennedy clarified. “It’s going to be Rick or Maggie or Michonne.”

  
“But would you? If it came down to it?”

  
Kennedy’s face was still blank. “Yes, I’d kill him.”

  
“And the others?”

  
“Some of them, yes.”

  
“And if they surrendered?”

  
“They’ll never surrender-“

  
“ _Kenny-_ “

  
“No,” he interrupted. “They’ll pretend they’ve had but they won’t, not really.”

  
“And you don’t want to worry about that?” Jesus guessed.

  
There was a gentle sadness to Kennedy’s gaze. “I don’t want to have to worry about any of it, and I know it’s childish and unrealistic but... I just want it to be over already so I don’t have to see them anymore.”

  
“Listen, Kennedy, I never wanted to make things harder for you, I just- I can’t just pretend I think it’s okay to kill them all.”

  
“I never said we should kill them all,” Kennedy said, moving to sit at the edge of Jesus’s bed. “I know they aren’t all bad.”

  
“Yeah?” Jesus asked, genuinely curious. “Like who?”

  
Kennedy thought for a moment before replying. “Like Justin, he was one of the Sanctuary’s guards. He was there for his nieces.”

  
Jesus raised a brow before joining him on the bed. “He your boyfriend?”

  
Kennedy chuckled and gave him a long amused look. “You sound like Maggie.”

  
“Is that why you were upset with her yesterday?” Jesus asked a bit self consciously. “Because she told me you were gay?”

  
Kennedy glanced at him, amused and unimpressed. “No, that was about something different.”

  
“So... you really don’t mind me knowing?”

  
“I’ve never really tried hiding it. You don’t mind me knowing _you’re_ gay?”

  
Jesus chuckled. “No.”

  
“Well then, I guess we’re even,” Kennedy commented.

  
They fell into a comfortable silence, the only noise between them being the distance clang of metal against metal at the blacksmith's forge.

  
“Is this a truce then?” Jesus inquired, unable to quell his anxiety over the matter.

  
Kennedy gave him a small smile. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, well, well, it seems our boys have finally sorted out some of their issues.  
> I forgot to mention in the last chapter that the 'BEFORE' sections will be stopping for awhile now that we've caught up with where the farm comes into play in the show. Eventually, there will be more flashbacks but they will be shorter and they'll differentiate each chapter (for example one might take place during the apocalypse and another may take place before). I'd also like to write some Jesus flashbacks eventually but unfortunately, the show is being a dick with his character and has revealed little to nothing about his past so unless I make some shit up that probably won't be happening. What do you think? Do you want noncanon content for Jesus's past or should I wait until AMC gets their shit together?  
> The next chapter should be up on the 12th or 13th of November in celebration of the one-year anniversary of this fic!!! That's right, folks, WAAWA is turning a year old! I am so proud.  
> Thank Y'all so much for your support, it really means a lot to me and I hope you're enjoying the fic so far.  
> Kudos help my cat sleep restfully and comments help free my appendages from her ruthless hold.


	20. Casualties of War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The convoy sets off to end the war but an unexpected presence waiting for them sends the operation spiraling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS FIC IS OFFICIALLY A YEAR OLD!!!! This has been such an amazing journey making this fic and I couldn’t have done it without y’all. Your support and praise means the world to me and I seriously wouldn’t have gotten to this point without it. You all are so amazing and have brought this fic to this point. Thank you so much.  
> Here’s your twentieth chapter you beautiful, beautiful creatures.

  
Things were happening in the Hilltop and it was both exhilarating and painful to watch. Exhilarating because it meant it was almost over, soon everything could be finished and Kennedy could go back to healing. And painful because watching the convoy prepare to leave meant watching as men and women said goodbye to their families; their spouses and crying children. The fear of the possibility of them not returning was palpable and Kennedy felt it deeply.

  
Maggie was going with them, of course, and there was something utterly terrifying about her leaving, something that awoke memories of Hershel and Annette, hell, even the old blurry memories of his real mother. But he knew he couldn’t and wouldn’t change her mind about it.

  
She came up beside him, stopping at the top step of the houses massive porch. “Are you ready?” She asked, there was something distant in her voice as if she too could sense the early grief in the air.

  
Kennedy had been mulling over this conversation in his head for awhile now but decided to keep it simple. “I’m not going,” he said calmly.

  
“What?” Maggie asked, she didn’t sound upset in the slightest, just perplexed. “I thought that after the last time-“

  
“Yeah, I did too. But... I think I’d be of more use here. I can offer medical help even though your new doctor is a bitch and I can watch over the walls, make sure nobody sneaks up on us.”

  
“Are you sure about this?” Maggie pressed, her brows drawn.

  
Kennedy nodded, giving his sister a small smile. “Promise me you’ll be careful?”

  
Maggie returned the smile. “Of course.”

 

**....**

 

There was still a bit of tension but when Jesus approached Kennedy on the porch there seemed to be a slight resolution between the two. It had felt settled the night before but Jesus had carried the worry of Kennedy changing his mind throughout the night. Yet he remained unfazed as he sat on the step beside him.

  
“You’re looking fancy today,” Kennedy commented sarcastically.

  
Jesus almost sighed in relief at the remark and looked down to his war clothes, aka his typical attire plus the trench coat and gloves. “I thought the Saviors as well might enjoy the view while they’re being beat.”

  
“Of course,” Kennedy said, smiling.

  
It was getting dark, but it always got dark sooner at the Hilltop due to the abundance of trees surrounding it.

  
“You don’t look fancy,” Jesus said, observing Kennedy’s pale jeans and his flannel button up with logistical distaste. “If you need something more... practical to wear then-“

  
“I’m not going,” Kennedy interrupted.

  
Jesus was unsure how but he felt both relieved and disappointed at that. “Oh?”

  
“I just think...” Kennedy shrugged. “You don’t need me out there. I could do more good here.”

  
“Are you sure?” Jesus questioned, not entirely sure what answer he wanted.

  
Kennedy nodded.

  
“Okay,” Jesus said, unable to keep the disappointment from his voice. “I’ll tell Maggie.”

  
“She already knows.”

  
“Oh, okay.” Jesus stood from his stair, feeling a bit lost, and started back towards the door.

  
“Jesus?” Kennedy said.

  
Jesus paused and looked back at him.

  
“Could I maybe borrow some of your books?”

  
At that Jesus could help but chuckle a bit. “Of course.”

  
“Gregory’s library is insufferable.”

  
“That’s fair.”

  
Kennedy grinned but it was still a bit strained. “Thanks."

 

**....**

 

The convoy preparing had been painful but it actually leaving was downright insufferable. It was as if the cars were taking all of the oxygen from the community and those left behind had to wait, choking until they returned. But that wasn’t the worst of it, the worst was the silence.

  
It was so quiet without them there. Like everything had been put on pause. Even the crickets that filled the evening with sound were silent in their absence.

  
Most just stood outside, waiting. But Kennedy couldn't handle that so he went inside.

  
The house too was uncomfortably empty save for Enid who was with Gracie in Gregory’s study.

  
“Hey,” he said, walking to the doorway.

  
Enid turned back to look at him, shuffling Gracie in her arms. “Hey,” she echoed with a tight-lipped smile.

  
“Do you... need some help?” He was regretting not going with Maggie now if only because of his restlessness. But he knew as he’d always known that he likely wouldn’t do too well in battle. Forget his so-so aim and danger attracting attributes, it was his history with the Saviors that would be his downfall. Hell, just seeing the POW’s outside made him feel like he was suffocating, who knew how he’d react to actually seeing them out in the field. The run with Jesus had been tricky enough but... out there? He knew he wouldn’t have fared well.

  
“Yeah,” Enid replied, shifting the baby in her arms so Kennedy could take her. “Can you hold her? I’ve gotta get her bottle.”

  
Kennedy nodded and took the small bundle from her grasp, gently swaying to smooth the transition. He didn’t need to though; Gracie was dead out.

  
“You have experience with babies?” Enid asked. It seemed as though the silence was too much for her too.

  
Kennedy couldn’t help but smile a little as he replied sadly. “I had a little sister, Beth.”

  
Enid looked hesitant to press but desperate for conversation. “Maggie’s mentioned her before.”

  
“I was-“ Kennedy tried to think back but just shook his head when he came up blank. “Really young when she was born but my stepmother made me take this sibling class.” He laughed at the memory.

  
“‘ _Sibling class_ ’?” Enid chuckled, confused.

  
“Yeah, they taught us how to change diapers, mix formula, swaddling, you know, normal stuff.”

  
“So you could’ve been like... a professional babysitter,” Enid mused.

  
Kennedy scoffed. “God, no. I was terrible at all that stuff. But I could make her laugh, that was the one thing I was good for when she was a baby, whenever she was crying Dad would just hand her to me and she’d burst into laughter. It was kind of insulting actually.”

  
Enid laughed, pulling an empty bottle from the duffel bag that passed as a diaper bag. “I’ll be right back,” she said, wiggling the bottle in explanation.

  
Kennedy just nodded.

  
Enid started for the door but paused at the archway. “Kenny?” she murmured, her voice hesitant.

  
Kennedy spun around to face her. “Yeah?”

  
“Have- have you ever... I mean...”

  
Kennedy raised an eyebrow.

  
Enid took a steadying breath. “Have you ever been in love?”

  
Kennedy blinked. That wasn’t the question he’d been expecting. “Why do you ask?”

  
Enid shrugged. “It’s just... with Carl...”

  
Kennedy smiled sympathetically. “I think so, yeah.”

  
“How’d you know?”

  
Kennedy shrugged. “I just... I knew.”

  
“Was it during or...”

  
“No, no, it was before.”

  
Enid nodded. “What happened?”

  
“It, uh, it didn’t end well.”

  
“Oh, I’m sorry.”

  
Kennedy just smiled and shrugged. “It is what it is.”

  
Enid fiddled with her hands and looked from him to the door.

  
Kennedy sighed. “Well?”

  
“Okay, um, but how did you... know?”

  
Kennedy shrugged. “I liked being around him, I liked seeing him, talking to him, I really liked making out with him-“

  
Enid chuckled.

  
Kennedy smiled softly. “And... I knew he liked spending time with me and I really, _really_ liked that.”

  
Enid smiled a bit wistfully. “Oh, okay, yeah, thanks.” With that, she disappeared around the corner.

  
Kennedy sighed a laugh and looked down at Gracie. “Young love,” he mused.

 

**....**

 

When the convoy stopped so did Jesus hopes for winning that night. It wasn’t that he’d given up so easily, he would never. But he saw the cars, the Saviors, and the way Maggie stiffened suddenly at the sight and just knew they’d be returning home empty-handed.

  
In front of them, the back of the moving van was opened and Jerry’s unmistakable form pushed from it. He stumbled, rolling down the ramp.

  
Jesus heard Maggie take in a sharp breath beside him.

  
He was suddenly glad Kennedy had chosen to stay at the Hilltop, glad he didn’t have to see the type of thing that had started the war for them to begin with, glad he didn’t have to see Negan again.

  
But it wasn’t Negan who stepped out of the moving van, it was Simon in all of his mustached glory.

  
Two Saviors lifted a box from the back of the van, an elongated packing container that looked eerily similar to a coffin. They placed it indelicately at the front of their car.

  
Slowly, deliberately, Simon made his way to their car. “ _Hello, hello, hello_!” He called, too cheerily for the situation. “What a damn nice night!”

  
Jesus could practically feel Maggie’s ire, her fury.

  
“You all know the drill,” Simon continued. “Due to your recent decisions everything has changed and yet nothing has changed.”

  
Jesus sighed but it was less exhaustion and more disappointment. He’d wanted for it to be over. For him, for Maggie, for Kennedy. So they could move forward and heal and build and move on. It was then that he realized just how much he wanted to move on, how much he wanted to be done with all of the fighting and killing. It had made him uncomfortable before but he’d understood it was sometimes necessary, sometimes the only way. But now it didn’t feel like that anymore. But of course, Simon had to try and change that.

  
“Everyone needs to hand over your guns.”

  
Everything was eerily silent.

  
Maggie’s grip on the side of her seat tightened until her fingernails were digging into the leather.

  
“Gary, shoot that beautiful bastard if anyone tries anything same goes for everyone in the cars,” Simon called as he neared them.

  
With gritted teeth but a calm expression Jesus handed over his gun to the Savior that passed his window, Maggie and the others did the same.

  
“How’d you get out?” Maggie gritted out when Simon leaned down to her window.

  
“Three guesses,” he said cheerfully. “Well, let's just say we figured it out.

  
“What’d you-“

  
“Oh yes, that was exactly where I was going next. Right now Kingdom is getting its innards splayed out for the world to see. The Saviors will be taking possession of that property tonight,” Simon said with a smile. “Same with Alexandria, as long as they don’t make it complicated.”

  
Well, that explained why Negan wasn’t there.

  
“But Hilltop, the farmers, the breadbasket of our nascent civilization, it’s your lucky day! You’ve been chosen to keep producing.”

  
Maggie was stiff as a board, her body practically radiating fury.

  
“Gregory made a bit of a fool out of me in front of the big man and I am hoping that you are the one to make things right,” his words were calm but his voice was clearly threatening.

  
Distantly a sound came into hearing distance: music.

  
“You hear that?” Simon asked, putting a hand to cup his ear for effect. “I need you to shift into active listening.” Then: “ _Eugene!_ Who I, admittedly, was a bit skeptical of but... worked out like gangbusters. He helped us get out of the situation with the masses of the cold and impolite and now my guys are leading the rest of the heard away.”

  
It hadn’t worked. It had been a questionable plan to begin with but the disappointment of failure still tasted bitter.

  
“So,” Simon continued. “This can go one of two ways. One; I can kill that likable gent on his knees over there, drag you out of this car and put you in this box. In which you will not suffocate to death like your friend... Sasha?”

  
Jesus wanted to reach out to Maggie, to somehow calm the rage and panic he could see behind her carefully stern face but he didn’t think she’d react well to any physical contact in their situation.

  
“Then, we take you back to Hilltop and kill you in front of the whole place and then drag you back to Sanctuary and put you on a spike in front of HQ and then my people will lead the walker herd back to your place in the same move your people tried unsuccessfully at our place.”

  
Jesus thought of Kennedy back at the Hilltop and just knew he’d do anything in that moment to keep them away from him. Sure, the citizens of the Hilltop would be killed along with himself but they wouldn’t kill Kennedy if they saw him, they’d take him to Negan. And god knows what he’d do then.

  
“What a pain in the ass!” Simon groaned at his own plan. “For everyone concerned.”

  
There was a pause where Simon let that stew.

  
“Or two: you turn around, go home, start watering that sorghum and save everyone but most importantly me a lot of trouble. And yeah, we’re going to have to kill one of your people.”

  
Jesus felt his heart rate rise as Maggie turned slowly to face Simon.

  
“But then we’re aces!” Simon pulled away from the car, turning back to the Saviors by the moving van. “No, Gary, I’ve got this.” And with that, he shot at the car, just once, the windshield shattering and the car filling with the smell of blood.

  
Jesus turned back slowly though he didn’t really want to see what wait for him in the back seat.

  
Neil had been shot in the head, no saving him, no fixing it.

  
Maggie bit back a sob.

  
“I just really need you to know what I was talking about, I need you to _smell_ it,” Simon growled. “Now, tell me I don’t have to kill this gent with the lustrous mane, tell me I don’t gotta go down the line, tell me, Maggie!”

  
When Maggie was silent he continued. “Gary!”

  
“ _No!_ ” Maggie screamed before Gary could kill Jerry. “You don’t need to do any of it.”

  
Simon nodded.

  
Maggie took a breath, feigning calm even though her eyes were brimming with tears. “I just wanna ask you a favor.”

  
Simon looked amused. “What is that?”

  
“I’d like that box,” Maggie said immediately. “Take Neil home, to bury him in.”

  
There was another pause, an amused silence that warred with the smell of blood. “Favor granted.”

  
And with that, he pulled back and the pressure that had been on the car ever since went with it, leaving them with nothing but a wooden box and a fresh corpse.

 

**....**

 

It was past midnight when the convoy returned which was alarm enough in itself because they weren’t supposed to be back until morning.

  
Kennedy bolted from the house as soon as he heard the cars pull up, narrowly avoiding taking Gracie with him.

  
At first, he thought maybe it wasn’t them but the Saviors come to ambush them. But surely enough they were the same cars and as soon as they slowed to a stop Maggie jumped out of the one at the front and started for the POW’s.

  
“What happened?” Kennedy asked, struggling to keep up with Maggie.

  
The fury on her face was enough to send some of the guards running the other way.

  
“ _Maggie_ ,” Jesus sounded almost as worried as Kennedy as he too hurried to keep up.

  
Maggie didn’t stop until she reached the prisoners.

  
Gregory immediately began spewing bullshit and calling her Margret.

  
“That one,” she said pointing to one of the Saviors. “Get him out.”

  
One of the guards took him out of the prison and another gave Maggie his gun.

  
“This one tried to kill you.”She said to Jesus once the guards had led him to her.

  
Kennedy gave Jesus a questioning glance that wasn’t returned.

  
“Maggie, you don’t want to do this-“ One of the other Saviors, Alden, started.

  
“Shut up, Al,” the Savior said. “Cupcake wants to put on a show let her put on a show.”

  
Maggie shot him in the head then pointed the gun at the other Savior. “You wanna be next?”

  
He was quiet for a second but replied weakly, “No, I don’t.”

  
Slowly, Maggie lowered the gun. “Saviors killed one of our own tonight on the road,” Maggie explained to the guards and Kennedy. “We aren’t even but that was a start.” She started towards the house.

  
“Maggie-“ Jesus started.

  
“Get more guards on duty. Start fortifying the walls and bury Neil. First light everybody else starts tending crops.”

  
“I thought we don’t give up,” Jesus called after her.

  
“No, we don’t. Simon said the others are under attack, which means there’s no more supplies goin' in but there might be people. We have to be ready.” She turned back around and started up the hill again. “It’ll be up to Hilltop to make the last stand.”

  
Jesus stood frozen in his spot so Kennedy followed Maggie up to the house.

  
“ _Mags_ , Mags, _Hey!_ ”

  
Once she reached the house Maggie made a B line for the study.

  
Kennedy hurriedly followed her in. “Hey, I get it, okay? You did what was right.”

  
Maggie leaned against the desk, her back to him. “What would they do to you if they found you?” She asked, her voice stern but watery.

  
Kennedy stopped a few feet away from the desk. “What?”

  
“The Saviors, If they found you and we couldn’t protect you what would they do to you?”

  
Kennedy thought for a moment and then sunk into one of the armchairs. “They might kill me to make an example of, or they might just take me with them and make me be with Negan again, or they’ll lock me away to use as an example. Really it all just depends on Negan’s mood.”

  
Maggie sniffed and turned to face Kennedy. “I can’t lose you again.”

  
“ _You won’t_.”

  
“No, Kenny, you don’t understand. They had us today. They had us. If you had been with us I... I don’t know what I would’ve done, what I _could’ve_ done. I can’t lose you... You’re the only family I have left.”

  
Kennedy stood and took his sister's hand. “No, I’m not. You have Rick and Michonne and Enid and Jesus-“

  
“No, I mean _family_ , family,” Maggie pushed. “I can’t handle you dying. I can’t- I can’t survive losing you right now. When mom died I almost lost it, I could handle Annette, I could even handle Shawn, but I barely survived Mom and I barely survived Beth and I’ve barely survived Glenn-“ She cut off with a sob. “Kenny- I can’t-“ She sobbed again. “I _can’t_ -“

  
“Shh, Shh, I’m not going anywhere okay? I don’t plan on leaving you any time soon. You’re stuck with me.”

  
“You can’t freak out on us again, okay? If I lost you to Negan that would be one thing but if you killed yourself-“

  
Kennedy winced at the old topic but didn't chastise her for it. “I won’t. I promise you, Maggie. I _won’t_.”

  
“Yeah, but you promised Beth too after the first time and-“

  
“And I did it again, I know, I know and I regret that now. It won’t happen again. I promise.” He put one hand on Maggie’s shoulder and the other against her wet cheek.

  
Finally, Maggie nodded and tucked herself into Kennedy’s arms.

  
Kennedy sighed and rested his head on his sister's neck.

  
“I love you, little brother,” Maggie whispered against his hair.

  
Kennedy lifted his head a bit when he saw movement in his peripheral vision.

  
Jesus stood at the double doors looking lost and conflicted.

  
“I love you, too,” Kennedy muttered before pulling back gently. “Sit down, rest. I’ll be right back, okay?”

  
Maggie nodded and gave him a half-hearted smile.

  
Kennedy gave one back and met Jesus at the doors, closing them as he reached them.

  
“Is she okay?” He asked quietly.

  
“She’ll be fine.”

  
Jesus’s eyes fell to the floor, he almost looked guilty.

  
“Are _you_ okay?” Kennedy found himself asking.

  
Jesus met his gaze at that. “I understand why she did it I just... wish she hadn’t.”

  
Kennedy sighed and, without really thinking, took Jesus’s face in his hands.

  
Jesus looked startled.

  
“Don’t beat yourself up about something you didn’t do. It’s not your fault, it’s theirs. They are the ones pushing us to make these decisions and this was inevitable either way. I’m sorry it didn’t work out the way you wanted it to, I wish it could’ve.”

  
“Do you really consider me to be family?” Jesus’s voice was hollow and exhausted.

  
Kennedy wasn’t sure why the question caught him off guard. Of course, he had been listening, he probably started following them as soon as they reached the house.

  
He slowly lowered his hands from Jesus’s face. “I do.” And he was surprised to realize it was the truth. He’d known him for less than three weeks but he already trusted him with not only his own life but his sister’s.

  
Jesus was quiet for a minute, likely trying to figure out how to reply.

  
“Maggie does, too,” Kennedy continued when the silence became too much. “Even though she doesn’t say it.”

  
“Thank you.” It came out as barely more than a whisper.

  
For a second Kennedy considered kissing him. He’d been ignoring his attraction to Jesus for over a week and...

  
Kennedy let that train of thought derail.

  
_Not the right time. Not now._

  
“Go get some sleep,” Kennedy said instead. “Something tells me you need it more than I do. It’s fine, I’ll take care of Maggie.”

  
Jesus opened his mouth and then closed it and then he nodded and disappeared out the front door.

  
Kennedy let out a shaky breath of relief once the door shut behind him.

  
_Shit._

  
The door to the study opened from the inside.

  
“Why the fuck didn’t you kiss him?” Maggie asked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that was chapter 20!!! I can't believe it's been a year since I first uploaded this fic, it feels like so much longer. Once again I want to thank everyone who has helped me on this journey. It may not feel like it but every single comment and kudos you leave helps me so much with this fic. Your support has given me so much more confidence in my writing and without your kind words I wouldn't be posting today. You've all been so loving not only to me but to Kennedy which makes me happier then you could ever imagine. You are all so amazing, thank you, thank you, thank you.  
> The next chapter will be out 11/30!!!!   
> SNIPPET OF CHAPTER 21: "I just tend to get a bit...anxious, when I get cooped up here for too long."  
> Kennedy hummed. "Commitment issues?"  
> Jesus laughed but he looked a bit surprised. "Excuse me?"  
> Kennedy gave him a knowing look. "You know what I mean."  
> "You don't have much room to be judging my emotional baggage."  
> "Oh, I wasn't judging I was just pointing it out."  
> ;) ;) ;)  
> Kudos give me direction and comments bring about another twenty chapters.


	21. Hope In The Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the community frighteningly low on food and bullets, Jesus and Kennedy set out on another supply run.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I think we can all agree there's a shit ton of stuff to talk about. If you want to read my thoughts on THAT episode go ahead and look at the endnotes when you finish the chapter.   
> But in other drama:  
>  Buds, my dudes, my pals, something happened. We all gather here today not only to mourn THAT but also something incredibly tragic that happened a few weeks ago.   
> So long story short: I'm a dumb bitch.   
> I mentioned previously that I recently got a new phone etc etc etc fast forward a few weeks and I'm plugging it into my desktop computer for the first time. My computer keeps asking to back it up, eventually, I give in, and then when it's finished and I look at my phone I realize that it didn't back up my new phones content but actually it backed up my old phones content ONTO my new phone.   
> If you've made a habit of reading these notes then you probably know I write on my phone and this wouldn't have been an issue if I made a habit of backing up each phone regularly but I'm lazy. Anyway, everything that I had written for a month and a half disappeared. Just, poof!  
> I cried a lot, contacted support, and desperately searched my computers archives but it was all gone. Every future snippet since this season started, every outline, every chapter. Including this one.  
> So yeah, I had to completely rewrite this chapter. I'm like 90% sure the first version was better but it's gone now so... yeah. So if this one feels a bit stale I'm really sorry, I'm pretty sure I wrote it better the first time.

After the incident with the Saviors, Kennedy wouldn’t have even considered leaving Maggie’s side. She’d been a wreck that night and he wasn’t in any hurry to see his sister in that state again. But his worry wasn’t necessary, as soon as she got up the next morning she’d been a freshly oiled machine; emotionless and efficient. All that mattered was taking the Saviors down, that was it.

  
Kennedy expected some sort of vulnerability in the night hours when the day had come to a close but Maggie still managed to feign invulnerability.

  
Jesus, however, was a different story. As Maggie coped through taking control back over the community Jesus became reclusive, spending most of his time in his trailer, and surely not approaching Maggie.

  
So when Jesus came to him two days after the incident with a murmured invitation to a supply run Kennedy knew he needed to accept.

  
It wasn’t that he was naive enough to think Maggie didn’t need him, it was just that he knew Jesus needed him more and he hadn’t been lying when he’d said he was like family.

  
When Maggie had figured out about it she had been angry, _of course_ , but if she wasn’t stopping Jesus then they both knew she had no good reason to stop Kennedy from going.

  
It was two days after the Incident when they were set to leave in the same Volvo as before, it was a bit dented and bloody but it was the only car they had that wasn’t covered in sheet metal and it drove just fine.

  
“You don’t have to come,” Jesus pointed out gently as he placed a few extra cartons of gas in the trunk.

  
“I know,” Kennedy replied, dropping his backpack into the back seat. “But I want to.”

  
A faded smile graced Jesus’s otherwise solemn expression. “Maggie doesn’t like it,” he pointed out.

  
Kennedy waved that off with his newly freed hand. “Maggie doesn’t like anything, besides I don’t entirely trust you to come back.”

  
Jesus arched a brow.

  
“You do this a lot, don’t you?”Kennedy’s voice was low but still gentle.

  
Jesus looked away and drudged up an excuse. “We need supplies.”

  
Kennedy glanced back at him as he closed the car door; unimpressed.

  
Jesus sighed but other than that he didn’t show any more signs of discomfort at being found out. “I get... claustrophobic, sometimes.”

  
Kennedy felt a tug in his chest; not of pity but understanding. If it wasn’t for Maggie he too would be running off every few days; charging into the fray just because he needed something to do.

  
“I just, I get a bit anxious when I get cooped up here for too long.”

  
Kennedy hummed, ignoring the urge to simply say ‘I get it’. “Commitment issues?”

  
Jesus laughed but he looked surprised. “Excuse me?”

  
Kennedy gave him a knowing look. “You know what I mean.”

  
“You don’t have much room to be judging my emotional baggage.”

  
“Oh, I wasn’t judging, I was just pointing it out.”

  
Jesus tiny smile stretched into something sprawling and genuinely amused.

  
Kennedy felt a different kind of tug this time. “You got this?” He asked, gesturing to their pile of supplies.

  
Jesus nodded but there was a glimpse of disappointment in his gaze.

  
“Good, I need to go talk to my sister.”

 

Maggie was furious but that was too be expected. “I still don’t see why you want to go,” She bit out when he came to see her in her office.

  
Kennedy shrugged trying to remain nonchalant. “We need supplies and you said yourself that we shouldn’t go out alone.”

  
Maggie shook her head and turned to face him, a thin betrayal bordering her angry expression. “You said you wouldn’t leave me.”

  
“You don’t need me, Mags,” Kennedy pointed out. “The doctor has all the help she could ask for, I’m not cut out for fighting, and I’m not necessarily the most liked in the community-“

  
“Do I need to talk to someone? Is that it? Has someone been bothering you?” She was reaching at straws and they both knew it.

  
“Maggie,” Kennedy said slowly. “I just need to do this, okay? You’ll be fine, I’ll be fine, we’ll all be just fine. The community needs supplies so Jesus and I will get them and then we’ll be back before you know it, alright?”

  
Maggie didn’t reply, she just clenched her jaw and turned back towards the window.

  
“I know I promised,” Kennedy said softly, his eyes falling to the floor of her study. “But... he needs me, Mags.”

  
Maggie looked back to her brother, her brows pinched. “Has something happened with you two?”

  
Running a hand through his hair Kennedy let out an exhausted sigh. “ _No_ , he just- I think he’s having trouble adjusting.”

  
“‘ _Adjusting_ ’?”

  
“You killed a man in front of the entire community, Maggie.”

  
Maggie’s mouth thinned. “You said I did the right thing.”

  
“And you did,” Kennedy assured. “But it’s a bitter pill for some people to swallow.”

  
“So what? You’re just going off with him to make him feel better?”

  
“I’m ‘ _going off_ ’ with him to make sure he comes back,” Kennedy corrected.

  
Maggie’s eyes narrowed but her face relaxed in a way that suggested understanding.

  
“I haven’t known him for long, but he seems like he needs someone to hold onto; someone to _trust_ , and you’ve just been a bit... _much_ lately,” Kennedy explained. “So we’ll go, get some supplies, I’ll talk to him a bit, and then we’ll come back fine and dandy.”

  
A small exhausted smile spread across Maggie’s lips. “You really should’ve been a psychologist.”

  
“I try.”

 

The community looked bare in the light of recent events; like all the colors had been sucked out of the world. The grass was no longer green but a pale yellowish white, the trailers were all alternating colors of grey and beige, and the walls looked burnt and black instead of brown. It no longer felt like they were fighting a war for a better world, no, it felt like they were fighting just for the chance to win.

  
Kennedy sighed dejectedly as he waited for Jesus to pack up the rest of their supplies.

  
 _It’s the beginning of something_ , he reminded himself. _Not the end._

  
But it felt like the end. It felt like they were a step away from a bear trap in every direction. No food, dwindling weapons, and more enemies to feed than friends.

  
Kennedy eyed where the Saviors rested and felt only a twinge of the anger he’d felt before, it was still but it was like the world was; _muted_.

  
“Are you ready?” Jesus asked from behind him.

  
Kennedy turned with an arched brow and nodded, tugging his door open.

  
But a low but commanding voice stopped him. “Wait!” Maggie called as she made her way down the hill, Enid trailing behind her.

  
Kennedy obediently waited but Jesus stiffened at the sight of Maggie and went ahead, climbing into the driver's side of the car and closing the door behind himself.

  
“You’re leaving now?” Maggie asked as she made her way down the hill.

  
“We want to get there before dark,” Kennedy explained.

  
Maggie made a face that illustrated her discomfort with them being out past dark.

  
“Don’t worry,” Kennedy purred, sending Jesus an affectionate look through his open door. “I have the ninja man, remember?”

  
Kennedy turned back to his sister but he saw the barest hint of a smile in his peripheral vision as he did so.

  
“Promise me you’ll be careful,” Maggie said as she slowed to a stop in front of him.

  
“I always am.”

  
Maggie didn’t seem convinced but she stepped forward anyway, taking her hand in hers before settling a warm metal object in it.

  
He didn’t recognize it at first but then Maggie pulled her hand away and Kennedy’s breath caught in his throat. “ _No_ ,” he croaked, holding out his hand for her to take it back.

  
Maggie closed his fingers around it. “ _Take it_ ,” she insisted. “For luck.”

  
With a shaky palm, Kennedy observed the object. It was his fathers watch in all of its silver glory, it’s surface just as shiny as he remembered. “He didn’t want me to have it.”

  
“He never said that,” Maggie shot back.

  
“Just because he didn’t say it doesn’t mean it isn’t true.”

  
Maggie cupped her brother's cheek. “Just hold onto it while you’re out there, please?”

  
Kennedy obediently took the watch, his chest aching as he placed it in his pocket across from where he kept his butterfly knife. “Only while I’m out there,” he insisted. “When I get back I’ll give it back to you.”

  
Maggie just nodded once then stepped back for Enid to take her place.

  
“Be careful out there,” Enid murmured, pulling him in for a brief hug.

  
Kennedy gave her a small squeeze back. “I will.”

  
When she pulled back she ducked down so she could look at Jesus inside the car. “Good luck,” she looked back up at Kennedy. “Look after each other.”

  
Jesus nodded, not quite smiling.

  
“We should get going,” Kennedy cut in, stepping back towards the car.

  
“Ken,” Maggie said, making him pause. “I love you.”

  
Kennedy smiled thinly but there nonetheless. “I love you too.”

 

“How long will it take to get there?” Kennedy asked as the Volvo sped down the road.

  
Jesus shrugged a shoulder. “No longer than three hours,” he said.

  
No matter how impromptu and unnecessary it seemed at first Jesus had thought the run through from start to finish, from the town they were to be looking into the exact roads and stores they would be taking. He even marked the residential areas on the map so they could have an actual house to stay in overnight.

  
“The roads I picked are pretty much a straight shot save for a few tiny detours we’ll have to take.”

  
It wouldn’t take long for them to exhaust all of their nearby supplies completely and have to go looking elsewhere. Likely in another state.

  
Kennedy sighed at the thought and observed his partner in crime.

  
Jesus didn’t look exhausted or peeved at having to go searching for basic supplies, in fact, he didn’t look upset at all. His eyes were alight with an energy Kennedy hadn’t seen in him since their last run.

  
He was... _excited,_ Kennedy realized.

  
It wasn’t surprising in theory but actually seeing it felt a bit startling.

  
“Have you gone out there before?” Kennedy found himself asking.

  
Jesus shook his head, fingers tapping against the steering wheel. “Not in this town, it was too big for me to pay any attention to before but we’re running out of small towns to ransack.” There was an air of panic in his voice as if the thought scared him.

  
“I’m sure you’ll find something,” Kennedy replied.

  
Jesus seemed to lose some tension at that. “I just like having something to do.”

  
Kennedy scoffed. “In this world, there’s too much shit to do, you shouldn’t have to go looking for it.”

  
Jesus eyed Kennedy before turning back to the road; it seemed infinite when framed by pine trees that nearly touched the sky.

  
“What?” Kennedy asked, leaning his head back against his seat.

  
“It’s just- it’s difficult when she doesn’t want me around.”

  
Kennedy’s brows raised in surprise. “Is that really what you thought? That my sister didn’t want you around?”

  
Jesus clenched his jaw. “I’ve made things more difficult and-“

  
“Fuck that,” Kennedy cut in. “And screw Maggie, _I_ want you around and none of that shit with those Saviors is going to change that.”

  
Jesus looked at him, surprised.

  
Kennedy’s cheeks heated swiftly and he didn’t hesitate to turn Jesus’s head back towards the road with two fingers to his bearded cheek. “Watch the road, cowboy.”

 

**....**

 

Jesus couldn’t help the warm smugness that settled within him after Kennedy’s comment.

  
 _He wants me around_ , a soft part of his brain purred happily.

  
 _He just doesn’t want you to become a problem,_ the other part of his brain insisted.

  
This internal war went on for awhile, filling the silence in his head with a headache inducing debate. Which side was right? Who knew.

  
Maggie was still a problem, no matter what Kennedy thought. Having her be disappointed in him was like angering a teacher you liked as a child; it was sudden and unrelenting. He felt as though he’d set some chain of events off starting with the POW’s and ending with Neil’s brains splattering against that car window. If he drifted off for too long he sometimes thought he could still smell his blood filling the car with its pungent scent.

  
Jesus shivered at the thought, suddenly glad Kennedy was there if only to ground him. “Kenny,” he murmured a bit shakily.

  
“Hmm?” Kennedy said, blinking at him blearily.

  
“Can you talk, please?”

  
Kennedy was quiet for a second as he seemed to process thing information but his expression didn’t change at all when he obediently started. “Did you know that the skeletons they used in the pool scene of the Poltergeist were real?”

 

**....**

 

When they finally reached the town after about an hour of idle chitchat Kennedy’s voice felt hoarse from overuse. He wasn’t use to talking so much in so little time but he couldn’t help but melt a bit at the way Jesus had seemed to relax at the sound of his voice.

  
The town itself was relatively small in size but large in utilities. Stores littered the main road; advertising everything from bagels to bullets.

  
It was the bullets they started with.

  
Already, as they climbed out of the Volvo that they’d parked in front of the store, they could see it was rundown. The two sprawling front windows had been smashed to pieces and the door had been knocked ajar. Inside Kennedy could already see a sea of empty shelves where bullets and hunting equipment had once been.

  
Beside him, with clear reluctance, Jesus pulled a pistol from somewhere in his trench coat; checking to see if it was fully loaded.

  
Kennedy took this time to grab his own gun, the weight feeling somewhat comforting in his hand.

  
“You ready?” Jesus asked, glancing back at him.

  
Kennedy just nodded in response, following him to the building.

  
Together they stepped over the broken door, Kennedy wincing as glass crunched loudly under foot.

  
The store looked almost pitifully empty; the racks across the far wall bare of any weaponry and the boxes of bullets coming up empty. Even the targets had been taken. Nothing remained but broken glass and empty shelving.

  
Kennedy heard Jesus sigh as they looked behind the counters of the gun section.

  
Racks stuck out from the walls like hands; empty and waiting for something to be placed upon them.

  
Nothing.

  
“Maybe there’s something in the back,” Kennedy suggested as he opened an empty cupboard.

  
Jesus rubbed his temples with his free hand and nodded, eyeing the bare racks with clear disappointment.

  
Kennedy led the way from behind the counter, eyeing the walls until he caught sight of a “employees only” sign beside a broken shelf.

  
It had no door covering the entrance way or if it once had it was no longer there; it simply led to a hallway with three doors down it each one closed.

  
Kennedy lifted his pistol up halfway, starting down the dark corridor.

  
He could feel Jesus’s presence behind him like a wall at his back but it only served to relieve his anxieties a smidge.

  
Stopping at the first door, Kennedy lowered his gun just slightly so he could grab the doorknob.

  
Jesus continued past him, pushing open the second door with ease, his pistol raised and ready to shoot down any danger to come.

  
The door hit the wall with an audible thud as Jesus shoved it open.

  
It only too a second for Kennedy to register the disappointment on his face before Jesus holstered his gun and disappeared into the second room.

  
_Nothing._

  
Jesus appeared again not a moment later; his knife bloodied but his person otherwise unharmed.

  
Kennedy pushed on his door with a sigh but it wouldn’t budge. He shoved it again, a bit harder this time but the knob caught halfway down and wouldn’t move.

  
Down the hall, Jesus shoved the last door open seemingly to no avail.

  
Kennedy wedged his shoulder between the door and the wall but once again it didn’t move.

  
“You got something?” Jesus called, finally noticing his struggle.

  
“It’s locked,” Kennedy explained, backing away.

  
A flicker of hope lit Jesus’s eyes as he observed the door. “Back up.”

  
Kennedy obeyed.

  
With a swift kick, Jesus kicked in the door; the wood splintering as it cringed away from the force of the blow.

  
Kennedy gave Jesus a slow appraising look, looking him up and down as if he’d never truly seen him before.

  
Jesus just shook his head but he was smiling.

  
Kennedy’s heart fluttered madly at the sight.

  
Jesus led the way into the room, pushing the door out of the way as he went.

  
It was a supply closet; it’s interior consisting of bare walls and industrial shelves lining them. It was relatively empty; the only remaining items being a mop bucket, a few empty holsters, and a plastic box that was resting at the top of one of the shelves.

  
Kennedy sent Jesus a quick glance and that was all that needed to be said before they both went for it; each taking one side as they lowered it to the floor.

  
Kennedy had to stand on his tippy toes to reach it.

  
With an anxious mind and shaky hands, Kennedy opened the box, the plastic feeling cold against his palms. “Well done,” he said, observing the contents.

  
Jesus reached inside lifting up one of the boxes of bullets to read the label. “These will work with our machine guns,” he said as if he couldn’t quite believe it.

  
Kennedy fumbled through the box, there were at least twenty boxes inside with at least fifty bullets per box. “ _Very_ well done,” he corrected himself.

  
Jesus laughed but there was an uncertainty to it. “I was starting to think we wouldn’t find anything,” he admitted.

  
Kennedy blinked at the confession, surprised.

  
Jesus wasn’t usually the one for pessimism.

  
“Well,” Kennedy started, lifting one side of the box. “I’m glad you were wrong.”

  
Jesus grinned and grabbed the other side.

 

**....**

 

Jesus hadn’t realized how much he’d needed a win until they’d finish loading the crate into the back of the Volvo.

  
Even as he’d been dragging himself and Kennedy out into danger he hadn’t really thought they’d find anything. Even when he put both of their lives on the line deep down he hadn’t thought anything would come of it. But something had.

  
Pride swelled in his chest as he started the car.

  
 _I was right, I was right, I was right,_ his brain chanted happily.

  
He’d been saying ‘one last run’ for months only half meaning it but he finally had something that could make it real.

  
One last run. The proclamation settled in his chest like a dumbbell.

  
He couldn’t imagine not having to go out for supplies every other week. After all, what else was he good for other than tossing himself into the fray for a can of peaches or a box of bullets.

  
Beside him, Kennedy climbed into the passenger seat with a tired huff.

  
Above the sun was starting to disappear behind the trees, turning the sky a pinkish color. It’d be dark soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm not quite sure what to say now. A few days ago I had a lot to say but I think I've kind of exhausted it by saying it over and over in my mind.   
> What the TWD writers decided to do was stupid, that's the only word I can think of when trying to come up with a logical reason as a writer. They had access to a character that is a complete and utter goldmine and they decided to kill him because they didn't know where to start. If you find yourself with the rights to a gay ninja named Jesus you don't kill him, I think that's fairly obvious.   
> He had so much potential and as a writer, I am baffled that they would even consider this option nonetheless go through with it and as a fan I am heartbroken. They could've done so much better and they didn't despite their many opportunities.   
> I am not going to stop writing this fic because they killed off one of our central characters (because he is ours now, they gave up the rights to him, he belongs to us). I repeat: I WILL NOT BE ENDING THIS FIC BECAUSE OF THIS STUPID SITUATION. I still have a lot of stories I want to tell with these two boys and though I cannot say for sure how I am going to proceed when I catch up with the show because I do not know how they are going to later approach this subject in the show I can say now with a fair amount of certainty that I do not plan on killing Jesus off in this fic. I think it was a disrespectful decision on the writer's parts and it just went to perpetuate the bury your gays trope.  
> It just made me really angry, is what I'm trying to say.  
> I'm really proud of Tom Payne for going out of that frustrating situation with the grace that he did and I wish him the best for his carrier, he is a truly gifted actor and AMC never deserved him.  
> Anyway, I hope you all are doing okay despite last Sunday's episode and to all of you who have joined in on this journey because of that episode; Welcome, children.  
> But on a semi-good note, this has opened this fic up to many more possibilities. I have mentioned before that I was struggling with whether or not I should come up with some non-canon content for Jesus's character or if I should just wait for the show to provide. Clearly, it hasn't so I will be doing whatever the fuck I want from now on (within reason, chill).  
> I'm not sure when the next chapter is going to be up. Usually, I try to post every time I get a chapter ahead but because my phone deleted all of my shit that hasn't happened yet and I'm still writing chapter 22 right now. But you can expect a much longer chapter next time with a lot of our boys bonding.  
> Please leave any questions or vents below, I'd love to sympathize with Y'all.  
> Kudos give hugs to those who need them and comments help me work up the saliva needed to spit on AMC, the TWD writers, and whoever else may be responsible for this horrific decision.


	22. Drapes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After what seems to be the beginnings of a fruitful supply run Jesus and Kennedy run into some trouble on the road.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Xmas, y’all.  
> I had this chapter done about two weeks ago but I really wanted to post on Christmas so I made myself wait lol. It took awhile at first because I was having difficulties with inspiration for this one when I’d already written it before but as soon as I got the beginning down it went pretty quickly.  
> I hope it doesn’t seem too bland, I’m sure my original draft was a lot spicier but oh well.  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy it!

Jesus had always been an early riser. It was something that was ingrained in him since his childhood and he’d never quite managed to outgrow it.

 

Growing up in foster care you had to take care of your own; your stuff, your friends, yourself. It hadn’t taken much time for him to get to the point where he’d wake up at every creak of the floorboards and snore from his foster siblings. So when the sun rose and light began filling the dark room he found himself waking up pretty quick.

  
It was a bluish grey light; like the way light was early mornings when fog covered the land and sky and the world was reduced to grays. It seemed to bounce off each of the walls of the two-story suburban home they’d ended up settling down in for the night, reflecting from one pale wall to another.  
They were sleeping in the living room in case they needed to make a hasty emergency exit. The house must’ve been in development before because it held no furniture nor any mementos of past lives; just the two of them.

  
Beside him Kennedy slept soundly, his face calm and free of worry. The angles of his face seemed delicate and soft in the light, his face paler.

  
Jesus sucked in a shaky breath at the sight, a familiar feeling stirring in him.

  
It wasn’t arousal per se, more likely attraction, but there was a thin line between the two and Jesus was most certainly toeing it.

  
Kennedy stirred just slightly before settling again.

  
He wasn’t covered in anything but his green flannel, the thin fabric clearly doing little against the chill of the heatless house.

  
Without thinking, Jesus sat up and shrugged off his trench coat, his bare arms prickling at the chill air, and draping it carefully over Kennedy’s sleeping form.

  
Kennedy didn’t awaken at the movement, only buried his head deeper into his pillow (a bundled up sweatshirt).

  
Jesus felt himself smile at the sight before laying back down.

 

**....**

 

The room was filled with light by the time Kennedy woke up, the walls looking more cream than white in the light.

  
He felt more than saw the empty spot beside him along with a bolt of panic at the realization that his partner wasn’t in the room with him. But his fears were swiftly squashed as he heard Jesus’s telltale soft footsteps in the next room over.

  
Kennedy sighed with his relief, sitting upwards and pulling his coat away from his shoulders.

  
It took him a long moment to realize he hadn’t actually had a jacket with him before.

  
Staring at the leather trench coat, confused, Kennedy carefully got up from his makeshift bed.

  
It wasn’t the jacket itself that reminded him but the smell that wafted up from it. It was mint and musk with a hint of sweat and a lingering smidge of blood.

  
_Oh,_ he thought immediately. _Jesus._

  
Kennedy froze at that.

  
Oh.

  
_Have I gotten to the point where I know him by scent alone?_ He pondered, his face heating.

  
Kennedy abandoned that road of thinking as swiftly as he’d discovered it and instead sought out his partner in crime.

  
He was in the kitchen, rechecking the cupboards above for any remaining remnants of food, his hair gloriously long and his arms stunningly bare.

  
Kennedy’s cheeks warmed again as his eyes began to trace the curve of his biceps without his permission.

  
“Good morning,” Jesus called without looking back.

  
Kennedy forced his eyes back to the back of his head, his face hot with embarrassment. “Morning.” He took a second to calm himself before moving forward and draping the trench coat over his vest clad shoulders. “You forgot this.”

  
Jesus pulled away from the cupboards to glance down at the jacket. “Oh, right. Sorry, you looked cold.”

  
“You don’t need to apologize,” Kennedy said, smiling.

  
This time it was Jesus’s cheeks that went red.

  
Kennedy was struck, as Jesus ducked his head against his gaze, by the urge to reach out and push his hair behind his ears. But he caught that thought before he could act on it and forced himself to retreat a couple of steps, pretending to be interested in the contents of the cupboards. “Find anything?” He asked, voice a bit rough around the edges.

  
It took a second for Jesus to recover but when he did he shook his head. “I don’t think this place was ever lived in.”

  
Kennedy couldn’t help but agree. The building was almost startlingly bare from bottom to top, even if it had been for sale realtors would’ve put some sort of decoration or furniture here or there to make it feel homey and yet the house was empty.

  
“What’s the plan for today?” Kennedy asked, lifting himself up onto the island.

  
Jesus shrugged as he continued to search through the cupboards. “I have a few more places marked that we can look at. Two are right by that gun shop so I thought we could search those today then move onto the next one. It’s a little ways out of town so we might have to make a day of it.”

  
It took some effort for Kennedy not to frown. “And how long exactly are we staying out here?”

  
Jesus glanced his way but averted his gaze just as quickly. “I’m not sure.”

  
“Jesus, we are going to have to go back eventually.”

  
“We’ve barely looked yet.”

  
“We found a fucking storage container filled with bullets yesterday, we’ve gotten enough.”

  
“We came out here for food,” Jesus cut in calmly. “We have to at least look for it.”

  
Kennedy sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “It’s been at least two years, at a certain point, which _I_ think we have reached, we are going to run out of nonperishables to loot. I don’t think we’re going to find anything else out here.”

  
Jesus leaned against the counter, his back to Kennedy. “We should at least look.”

  
“Fine,” Kennedy said flatly after a beat of silence. “Where did you want to look?”

  
“If you want to go back I can take you then come back alone.”

  
“Don’t be stupid.”

  
“I just-“ Jesus cut himself off and turned back to face Kennedy. His blue eyes held a sort of desperation that cut Kennedy to his core, he looked like an animal that had been caged his entire life and was just now getting his first taste of freedom. “I can’t go back yet.”

  
Kennedy smoothed out his expression. “Okay, then we’ll look some more.”

  
“You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”

  
_“Don’t be stupid_ ,” Kennedy repeated.

  
“I really don’t want to keep you here if you don’t want to be here.”

  
“And let you have all the fun? Not likely,” Kennedy shot back teasingly.

  
Jesus’s lips tilted upward in a thin smile. “Then we’ll look some more.” He opened another empty cupboard and peaked inside.

  
“Just one thing,” Kennedy cut in reluctantly.

  
Jesus raised a brow.

  
“What about the bullets?”

  
Jesus caught onto his meaning quickly. “Well, It’s not entirely safe for us to just let that haul sit in the back of the Volvo all day.”

  
“So what do you suggest?”

  
Jesus shrugged. “We split it, each of us takes half of the haul, carry it in our packs.”

  
“You want to carry around ten boxes of bullets in your pack all day?”

  
“Don’t think you can handle it?” Jesus teased.

  
Kennedy’s mouth quirked upward. “No, carry it for me?” He asked, batting his eyelashes.

  
Jesus flushed thoroughly before he rolled his eyes playfully. “We should head out soon, do you want to eat something before we leave?”

  
Kennedy shook his head, pushing off the counter.

  
“Are you sure? We didn’t have dinner last night and we have food packed in with the car.”

  
“I’ll be fine.”

  
Jesus gave him a long assessing look.

  
Kennedy rolled his eyes. “I’ll be fine,” he repeated. “ _God_ , you and my sister spend way too much time around each other.”

 

**....**

 

The drive to the towns grocery store was brief and comfortable. It was like those casual drives Jesus had liked taking when he’d first learned to drive, when he’d been desperate to escape from his foster families and too eager to get away from the pressures of his teenage life. The only differences being the decrepit world and Kennedy.

  
Kennedy’s presence had somehow become comforting in their brief weeks in each other’s company, he’d become a regular figure in Jesus’s everyday life to the point where he couldn’t bring himself to mind his presence on the run.

  
Usually, he’d want to go alone no matter what as both a safety precaution and an escape, but Kennedy had somehow managed to wipe away all those principles.

  
“I forgot to ask,” Kennedy said as they road onto Main Street. “How’s your wound?”

  
It took Jesus a second to remember his bullet graze. “Almost completely healed,” he said. “Got my stitches out a few days ago.”

  
“It doesn’t hurt, does it?”

  
Jesus gave Kennedy a careful look. “Does yours?”

  
Kennedy caught on a lot faster than he had, snorting at the comment. “It’s almost four weeks old, it’s fine.”

  
Jesus gave him another meaningful look as they pulled up to the store.

  
Kennedy sighed, looking uncomfortable with this topic of conversation. “It’s almost healed.”

  
“You said,” Jesus started, carefully. “That he did it because you tried to help someone escape?”

  
Kennedy’s jaw clenched and he slumped slightly in his seat.

  
“I don’t mean to bring up bad memories, I just- you seem like your still upset about it.”

  
Kennedy blinked. “Of course I’m _‘upset’_ , he fucking _stabbed_ me, Paul.”

  
Jesus’s cheeks heated without his consent at the sound of Kennedy saying his name so he forced himself to look at the rundown store as he calmed down.

  
All of the front windows were broken but one; blood coating it’s unclear surface in handprints and splatters. The blood was so old it was almost black.

  
It was from the beginning, he realized.

  
Jesus shuddered at the sight and turned back to Kennedy but then he was staring at the bloody window; his expression distant.

  
“My stepmom got bit pretty early on when she went on a trip to the grocery store.”

  
Jesus eyed Kennedy then the store. “I’m sorry.”

  
Kennedy shrugged a single shoulder, his distant gaze slowly returning. “It was a long time ago.”

  
Unsure of what to do with the information he’d been given, Jesus climbed out of the car, pulling his pistol from his coat pocket.

  
Kennedy followed close behind, slamming the door shut behind him.

  
“If I get shot again and I don’t make it, be sure to tell Carl I caught up with him.”

  
At that Kennedy broke into a grin, shaking his head. “That’s terrible.”

  
“You don’t really have room to call _me_ terrible.”

  
Kennedy lightly checked his shoulder as he went by, turning off the safety on his gun. “If you get shot again you better die or he’s gonna take you up on the competition.”

  
“See?” Jesus chastised, amused. “Terrible.”

  
Kennedy chuckled and started into the store.

  
It was similar to the gun store, most of its shelves collapsed or waterlogged, the only products remaining being menial or useless. It was both disappointing and expected.

  
Broken glass crunched beneath their shoes as they made their way down the main walkway between the shelves and cash registers.

  
Smashing against one of the shelves as it went, a walker emerged out from the back row at their noise, snarling through its exposed teeth.

  
With calm precision, Jesus moved ahead and swiped the walker's feet out from underneath it with a clean kick, holding it down with a boot to the chest when it tried to get back up again.

  
He reached for his knife but Kennedy was there before he could wrap his hand around the hilt; stabbing his butterfly knife into its eye effortlessly.

  
Jesus moved his boot away from the now dead walker's chest as Kennedy wiped the blood off the blade on its torn grey shirt.

  
“It does still upset me,” Kennedy said after a moment of lingering silence.

  
Jesus knit his brows together in confusion.

  
“The whole getting stabbed thing,” Kennedy elaborated. “It still upsets me.”

  
Jesus took his time formulating a response, not wanting to say the wrong thing. “You don’t... seem upset about much of the...other stuff, why?”

  
Kennedy paused in cleaning his blade before looking up at him, his blue gaze piercing. “Because I didn’t expect it.”

  
Jesus felt his brow raise of its own volition.

  
“The other stuff I could determine, I expected it, but I didn’t expect it when he stabbed me.” Confusion must’ve shown through on Jesus’s otherwise blank face because Kennedy continued. “I’d gotten used to him and I guess I’d started to think he cared about me because the day it happened... I didn’t expect it.”

  
“What did he normally do when you did something _‘wrong’_?” Jesus regretted the question as soon as he’d asked it, fearing his response.

  
“I didn’t.”

  
“I don’t understand.”

  
“I didn’t do anything _'wrong'_ ,” Kennedy said. “I did what he said when he asked it, no exceptions.”

  
“Then why’d you decide to try to help those people leave?”

  
Kennedy sighed and stood, moving away from the walker. “Because I was starting to feel bad about it.”

 

**....**

 

It didn’t take them long to realize the store was a lot bigger than the gun shop and stretched far beyond the empty shelves and the dead walker. At first, it seemed to be the same size as the gun store but after they’d finished searching the front of the store they found themselves faced with a door and a sign exclaiming _‘employees only’_. Similarly to the gun shop, it had a back section and same as the front of the store it was sprawling like a warehouse but in way of supplies, it didn’t provide much either.

  
It was filled with old build it yourself furniture and long since expired microwave meals hidden away in the no longer freezing freezer. The towering industrial shelves of the supply room held little but dust and empty storage containers.

  
It was nearly as bare as the store but with a few more useless items sprinkled here or there. Boxes of Christmas lights, bags upon bags of dry dog food, and random items for decor like curtains and lampshades.

  
The glass strewn tile had since given way to concrete and he could’ve been imagining it by Kennedy could’ve sworn the temperature dropped by a few degrees when they went inside.

  
“Looks like it’s already been looted,” Jesus commented, scanning the shelves for anything of importance.

  
Kennedy hummed in agreement, slipping behind the first row of shelves to the next.

  
“You’d think they’d lock this place up.”

  
“Maybe it was, once at least.”

  
“Would’ve been nice if it stayed that way.”

  
Kennedy met his eyes through the shelves over a box of electric porch lights. “Hey, don’t give up yet. Go check out the paisley drapes over there, they can make us laugh on bad days.”

  
“I don’t think Maggie would appreciate us mismatching her decor,” Jesus said with a hint of a smile.

  
Kennedy waved that off and kicked a soggy box of granola bars out of his path. “I’ll tell her they help my PTSD, she’ll give.”

  
“I’m pretty sure that pattern will actually make it worse.”

  
Kennedy raised a brow impressed. “You’re sounding gayer by the minute, darling.”

  
“I try,” Jesus purred, grinning.

  
“For me?”

  
“For you.”

  
“I’m touched,” Kennedy said with a hand to his chest.

  
“Oh, I’m sure you are,” Jesus shot back.

  
Kennedy beamed, delighted. “ _Drapes._ ”

  
“ _Drapes_ ,” Jesus echoed, heading for the opposite side of the warehouse.

  
Kennedy smiled to himself and stuffed his free hand into his pocket, continuing down the aisle at a leisurely pace.

  
The first aisle was wiped out of anything useful and so was the next but the third held a box of light bulbs and a few spare cans of spam. The rest, however, were bare of anything of usefulness.

  
Jesus returned not long after Kennedy finished with the last of the aisles, looking uncharacteristically proud of himself.

  
_He was like a lion_ , Kennedy found himself thinking. _A whole lotta hair, a whole lotta pride._

  
“You find the holy grail, Indiana?”

  
“Close,” Jesus said, smiling as he slipped his backpack from his shoulders and opened it to reveal a bulk pack of baby formula.

  
Kennedy’s heart leaped at the sight, an unnatural amount of hope filling his typically hopeless body. “You’re amazing,” he murmured, slack-jawed. “You’re a goddamn genius. I could kiss you.”

  
Jesus went pink once again and Kennedy wasn’t quite so distracted as to not notice. In turn, he felt his own ears go warm as he rifled through the rest of Jesus’s things finding a few more spare cans and a couple thin bottles of protein powder.

  
“It won’t taste great but it would give us something to sustain us a bit longer if we completely ran out of food.”

  
“The powder or the formula?”

  
“Both?”

  
Kennedy smiled. “You’re amazing.”

  
Jesus ducked his eyes at that, zipping up his backpack. “I just found it, is all.”

  
Kennedy reached out, grabbing him by the face. “ _You. Are. Amazing._ ” He said again with emphasis.

  
Jesus chuckled and swiped away Kennedy’s hands with a sheepish roll of the eyes. “I’ll take your word for it.”

 

They loaded their haul into the car by noon; tossing the cans of spam and chicken noodle soup into the back of the car but splitting the massive container of baby formula between them right next to their split packages of bullets.

  
“What now, captain?” Kennedy asked, slamming the trunk closed.

  
“Could you stop calling me that?” Jesus asked sounding more embarrassed then genuinely bothered.

  
“What would you prefer?”

  
“Anything.”

  
Kennedy raised a brow deviously. “‘ _Anything_ ’?”

  
Jesus rolled his eyes, smiling. “Your imagination is charming but predictable, thanks.”

  
“Is that an insult?”

  
“Probably not.”

  
Kennedy smiled, his hand trailing subconsciously to the silver watch that rested in his front pocket beside his butterfly knife.

  
The extra weight felt odd enough but sometimes when he walked he could feel the shape press up against his thigh.

  
Hesitantly and with caution, he pulled it from his pocket, running his fingers over its smooth face.

  
“I’ve been wondering about that,” Jesus said calmly from the other side of the car.

  
“Maggie didn’t tell you?”

  
“All I know is that she decked Gregory when he tried to steal it from her.”

  
Kennedy grinned at that, returning the watch to his pocket.

  
“I’m not going to get the story?”

  
Kennedy gave him a teasing smile. “You’ve gotta take me to dinner before you can ask about family heirlooms, love.”

  
Jesus leveled him with a heavy stare. “ _Predictable_ ,” he chastised.

 

**....**

 

When they finally got back to their house the sun was an hour away from setting casting the house in a sort of late evening shadow.

  
“We should probably just call it a night,” Jesus said, locking the Volvo. “It’ll be dark soon and we got enough for today."

  
“You getting bored, Mr. Supply Run?”

  
“No, I just don’t want to get caught out in the dark with the Saviors and walkers out.”

  
“I doubt the Saviors have come out here in months,” Kennedy said with a dismissive wave.

  
“What makes you think they’ve been here before?”

  
With an amused tilt of his mouth, he pointed to the house parallel to theirs where someone had spray painted the words _‘Negan Saves All’_ on the cracked windows.

  
“I didn’t see,” Jesus said, a tightness settling in his chest as he realized all the threats he could’ve put them under. “Kenny, I’m so sorry.”

  
At that Kennedy laughed. “For what? It means they’ve cleared out the town. They probably won’t be coming back unless they get desperate.” With that, he jogged up the steps to their house.

  
“ _Still_ ,” Jesus said, following him into the house.

  
“Paul, seriously, don’t worry about it,” there was a tone of tension in Kennedy’s voice so Jesus didn’t press any further.

  
“Do you want something to eat?” Kennedy asked, backing towards the kitchen. “We’ve got spam and chicken noodle soup, dinner of champions.”

  
Jesus pealed his heavy backpack from his aching shoulder and propped it up against the wall to the living room where they’d slept. Then he froze.

  
It was the same for the most part, but there was a muddy scuff on the carpet where it transitioned from hardwood to carpet. Like someone had started to step inside but then stepped away. Not wanting to leave a trace of themselves.

  
Jesus felt the presence behind him too late, an arm wrapped across his chest pulling him back into a firm body and he felt the edge of a blade against his throat.

  
“Don’t move,” a gruff voice commanded. “and you won’t get hurt.”

  
Jesus nodded just slightly as to not accidentally slit his own throat. “Okay,” he muttered quietly, as though he were about to give up. Then, he grabbed the arm that held the knife, tucked his chin down, and drove his left elbow into the man's side just as he’d seen Kennedy do to the Savior.

  
The man stumbled back and Jesus took the opportunity to rip free of his hold. He then kicked the knife out of the man's hand and sent him sprawling into the wall with a good kick to the chest.

  
Jesus pulled his pistol from his trench coat with fair urgency and pointed it at the man's head.

  
The man was old, probably in his late fifties or early sixties, his wrinkled face was dusted with overgrown grey stubble, and despite his age, the man looked fairly fit.

  
He scowled at Jesus when he took in the sight of the gun. “ _Motherfucker_.”

  
“ _Kenny_ ,” Jesus called, his voice sounding shaky in his own ears.

  
“He’s a bit busy,” a deep voice replied.

  
Jesus didn’t look away from the man who attacked him but he didn’t have to.

  
A second man pushed Kennedy roughly into his peripheral vision.

  
Jesus didn’t have to look to see Kenny’s hands raised.

  
“Give me your gun,” the second man said. “Or I’ll blow your friends head off.”

  
Jesus shook his head, his shoulders tensed. “I could threaten the same thing.”

  
The second man let out a low laugh. “Something tells me you care more about your boy here then I care about mine.”

  
Jesus couldn’t argue with him on that, he wasn’t wrong.

  
The first man didn’t seem pleased with the turn of events.

  
“Give me your gun.” He pulled back his revolvers hammer with a distinctive click.

  
Jesus put the safety on his pistol and handed the gun to the second man, turning to look at him.

  
This man was taller than the first but he had similar features, they were clearly related somehow.

  
Jesus also realized the gun that he held was Kennedy’s.

  
The man took the pistol and shoved it in his belt. “You alright, cousin?” He asked eying the first man.

  
“He kicked me in the fucking chest, man,” the first man replied.

  
“I’ll call an ambulance,” the second man said with a roll of the eyes, then to Kennedy, “I’ve seen you with a butterfly knife, I want it.”

  
Jesus’s stomach rolled.

  
They’d been watching them.

  
Kennedy looked pissed at the mere suggestion.

  
“I _will_ shoot you, don’t think I won’t.”

  
Pure panic led Jesus to say: “Kenny.”

  
Slowly, Kennedy pulled the blade from his front pocket and handed it to the man.

  
He took it and pocketed it with his free hand. “Now the watch.”

  
Kennedy went deathly still. “ _No_.” He said venomously.

  
“ _I will shoot you_ ,” the man repeated. “I saw you with that watch, I want it, _give it to me_.”

  
“ _No_ ,” Kennedy repeated as if his life weren’t on the line.

  
The man smiled, his teeth rotten and black. “I won’t ask again.”

  
“ _Kenny_ ,” Jesus couldn’t help the way his voice wavered.

  
“Yeah, _Kenny_ ,” the man purred.

  
Jesus could see the disgust that was plastered over Kennedy’s face, he practically shook with anger as he pulled the watch from his pocket and handed it to the man.

  
The man smiled again at that and took it, taking a step back. “ _Thank you_ ,” He said mockingly.

  
The first man stepped forward, taking Jesus’s pack from where it sat against the wall, not bothering to look inside before he threw it over his shoulders.

  
“Now, we are going to leave here and if you so much as think of following us I will plaster your brains all over these walls, got it?” He didn’t wait for them to agree, he just slowly began backing towards the kitchen.

  
The first man wasn’t that far behind him.

  
It wasn’t until the back door slammed shut behind them that Kennedy started after them.

  
Jesus put an arm out to stop him. “They took our guns, your knife, we’d have nothing to defend ourselves with if it came down to it.”

  
“He took my pack,” Kennedy said, still furious. “All of those bullets, Gracie’s formula-“

  
“We’ll find more.”

  
“ _Where_?”

  
Jesus couldn’t answer that but fixed Kennedy with a pleading look and then sighed once he backed down. “We’ll find a way, just trust me.”

  
Kennedy waved that off, pacing up and down the hallway. “He took my stuff, my knife, the-“ he cut himself off. “Whatever, _whatever!_ Fuck it!”

  
“ _Kennedy-_ “

  
“Just _stop_ ,” Kennedy cut in. “Where are we going because we definitely can’t stay _here_ tonight.”

 

There was something incredibly uncomfortable about Kennedy’s anger. Jesus was used to dealing with peeved people but something about the way Kennedy acted when he was mad made him supremely uncomfortable. It was inescapable and unflinching and he honestly couldn’t think of a way to soothe it as they walked down the street, looking for some place to stay that was a decent distance away from the house.

  
Kennedy hadn’t said a word since they’d left, his fury radiating off of him in waves.

  
Jesus had to make sure to walk at least five feet behind him at all times as not to get burned by it. “We could stay in one of the stores for tonight,” Jesus said, observing the buildings around them.

  
“If they’ve been following us around they probably saw us go in them earlier,” Kennedy bit out through his frustration. “I’m telling you we should just go back and stay in the car.”

  
They’d chosen to leave the Volvo behind as a last resort. If those men continued to sniff around them while they weren’t looking it was best the vehicle didn’t follow them to their next overnight location. Screw their supplies getting stolen, nothing would be quite as bad as their only ride back home getting nicked.

  
Jesus shook his head. Typically he wouldn’t be so unposed to the idea but if he were being honest he didn’t think Kennedy’s mood would improve any after having to sleep in a car overnight nonetheless however long it would take for them to make up for what they’d lost.

  
_What they’d lost._

  
_Shit._

  
Just like that, it hit him. Bullets, baby formula, a semi decent haul of food. Jesus had even been considering heading back to the Hilltop and all of that had just been washed away by two dicks with knives.

  
 _When did you get so weak?_ An unwelcome part of his brain questioned. _A couple of months ago you would’ve gone after them and gotten those supplies back no matter what. Screw knives, screw guns, it isn’t a matter of who was more armed it is a matter of who is better in a fight. You used to be better._

  
Jesus shook that off with a half welcome shudder.

  
Kennedy glanced his way but his anger didn’t allow him to extend any hints of concern. “Let’s just stay in the car.”

  
Jesus opened his mouth when he saw it, in the corner of his eye, clear as day. He turned his head to be sure of it, glancing down Main Street at the distant trees that lead to the highway.

  
It was a blur of dark clothing amongst nothing but brown and green, a shadow against the light.

  
Kennedy saw it too not long after he did, his eyes following Jesus’s until the reached the man. He was on edge completely, Jesus could see it in his severe expression and in the way he held his revolver, not his pistol the men had taken that with them, he must've been keeping it in the car just in case. He held it not as if it were a weapon but an extension of his arm. He raised it not really in thought or as a comment but as a solid and inescapable action.

  
Jesus knew as soon as he saw the gun go up that Kennedy intended to pull the trigger. So he did what any sane person in said situation would do, he pushed Kennedy's arm to the side, unintentionally settling the gun off in the process but successfully disturbing his shot.

  
The man, the same one who’d put a knife to Kennedy’s throat, heard and darted into the woods in response.

  
Kennedy spun towards Jesus, furious. “ _What the fuck_?”

  
“We don’t _do_ things like that, Kenny,” Jesus hissed.

  
“ _Are you fucking insane_?”

  
“You can’t just shoot people you don’t like!”

  
“He has our shit, the shit we need to win the fucking war that we’re in right now.”

  
“He has a couple of bullets and a carton of baby formula.”

  
“‘ _A couple of bullets’_?” Kennedy echoed, outraged. “He has a whole goddamn case, Jesus.”

  
“What is this really about?” Jesus pressed cautiously. “We can find more stuff, What is pissing you off?”

  
“What’s pissing me off is your complete lack of commitment to what we came here to do!” Kennedy shouted. “We find nearly everything we needed and it gets stolen and you just act like it’s no big deal.”

  
“It’s the stuff you’re worried about? That’s it?”

  
“What else would it be?” Kennedy laughed a bit, somewhat hysterically.

  
“Fine,” Jesus said, unable to calm the careful annoyance that spread throughout his chest. “I’ll get it back then.”

  
Kennedy blinked. “And how the _fuck_ do you propose doing that?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot more blushing here then I intended...  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed and I hope you're having a happy holidays!  
> I do intend to up the number of chapters posted each month to two but the Incident kind of derailed that plan for now, so I will be trying to get to that eventually but for now because I don't have any prewritten chapters it just isn't possible. I also don't have chapter 23 finished yet so I'm not 100% sure when it'll be up. I'll also be traveling a lot in these next two months so I don't know how much I'll be writing.   
> Next chapter: emotions n' shit.  
> Thank you for all of you're comments and praise and understanding about the Incident, it helps me loads, especially when I have writer's block.  
> Kudos help me ponder plots and comments make me sit the fuck down and write.

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhh!! Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed it.  
> Feel free to leave any comments or questions below or you can message me on my tumblr: Ibmax-vs-the-forces-of-evil


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